


Tend To These Flowers

by snugglepup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Codependency, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender-Neutral Chara, Gender-Neutral Frisk, I don't even know how to tag all this even as of chapter 3, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV Changes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rated M for language, Reader Is Chara, Reader Is Frisk, Self-Harm, Soft Chara, for a given degree of "soft", more like "not evil just an asshole" chara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7269997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugglepup/pseuds/snugglepup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara Dreemurr never expected to open their eyes again, but sometimes in life and in death, there really are second chances... however bizarre those chances may be.</p><p>(Rated M for language and possibly violence. Arguably a re-telling of Undertale, with slightly altered starting circumstances kicking off a spiral into nightmarish futures. Charisk but mostly about plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please... Wake Up!

**Author's Note:**

> Who was I trying to kid when I said I'd probably only write one Undertale fic? Whoops.

 

_stepping forward out into the day_

_shrugging off the dust and memory_

_though it's soaring still above your head_

_it is out of sight and none shall see_

_oh, there's a light, oh, there's a light_

 

[bastille – weight of living, pt. i](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyzHYg9BYRs)

 

* * *

  

When you open your eyes, the first surprise is that you opened them at all. The second surprise is that everything is pitch black. You don't really take this very well at all.

Like somebody drowning, you flail and thrash for a few seconds, but you can't actually feel anything around you. Are you floating in the endless void of death? You _were_ dead, last time you checked, and you were dying a second time –

Asriel.

_Shit._

The last thing you remember is a sense of... fragmentation, every little bit of your body and your mind coming apart into a billion little pieces, descending on the shivering, fading sight of golden flowers. When your human body died, well, it wasn't exactly great. Actually it was unbelievably horrible, but that's whatever, you know? So are most things in life. You could deal; hell, it was your own idea.

But it wasn't your body you died in the second time, when everything you and Asriel had worked for turned to dust. It wasn't about _you_ anymore. No, it was about the best friend you got killed. About your _brother._

That can't have happened. That's not _allowed_ to happen. He's nothing like you, splintered and filthy to the core, no, Asriel is... _good._ Honest, selfless, sweet. The kind of kid who _likes_ being photographed, who tries to understand everyone he knows even when that's impossible. He's not someone who hides their face behind flowers because they can't stand to taint a family picture with their plastic smile. Not somebody who should just _die._

But he's not those things, is he? Because Asriel _isn't._ The truth is that Asriel _was._

You spend a long time trying to hit something, even though there's nothing anywhere. Even _you_ don't really exist, do you? Punching yourself doesn't work. There's no fist to land and no flesh to bruise. There's nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing and nothing and nothing and more nothing and more nothing and _nothing everywhere_.

Crying doesn't work. You never cried much, but it wasn't _impossible,_ either. Az is – was – the family crybaby, but you were strong; at first you were strong because you were just used to living that way, and then you were strong because Asriel _wasn't_ and _someone_ had to be, no matter how much it hurt, no, _especially_ if it hurt.

Right now you'd do anything to feel salt running down your cheeks. You wonder if maybe you never understood what being _'strong'_ actually was in the first place.

Screaming curses into the void, you can almost convince yourself that you have a voice, so at least _that's_ something to do with what you're assuming is going to be the rest of eternity.

_It's not fair! It's not FAIR! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FAIR! HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE!_ THAT'S _FINE, BUT THIS ISN'T!_

Eternity is unimpressed.

_Someone hear me. Something hear me. Oh god please, please, send me to Hell if you want, just let me EXIST! JUST LET ME MAKE THINGS RIGHT! LET ME MAKE UP FOR EVEN A LITTLE BIT OF IT!_

Infinity has no ears.

_Why couldn't he just let me KILL them?! Why wouldn't he fight back? They were KILLING us! Killing HIM! They didn't even wait to see who he was, what he was! I WARNED him, I TOLD him about humans, but he never listened! He only ever listened to the things I SHOULDN'T have said!_

Oblivion isn't answering.

_Is it really wrong to want to kill someone who SHOT YOUR BROTHER!? Why did you just STAND THERE? WHY DID YOU LET ME GET YOU KILLED!?_

Nothingness hasn't got time for your excuses.

_PLEASE, JUST LET ME GO! PLEASE, GOD, LET ME FIND OUT WHAT REALLY HAPPENED! PLEASE, GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE TO DO SOMETHING!_

God doesn't seem to hang around these parts.

_mom, dad, someone, please, please, anyone, god or the devil, i don't care. just please. someone, anyone, anything, someone, don't leave me alone, maybe i deserve it but please no please not this please please please please oh god oh god don't let it be this way, don't let this be the end, someone, SOMEBODY HELP ME!_

But nobody came.

You try to keep on screaming until you're hoarse. Turns out you can't get hoarse when you don't actually have a throat. Hilarious.

How much time passes? Is there such a thing as time in this place? Is this even a _place?_ Does pure void count as a place in any conceivable sense? Who knows. You're no philosopher, you're just a fuckup.

Alone with your thoughts forever and ever: the single worst thing you could possibly imagine. You wouldn't even wish this on anyone from your _hometown._ Death, maybe, sure, plenty of them have it coming. Hell's fine too. But this? You wouldn't do this to your worst enemy. An eternity with Chara Dreemurr is a billion times more horrible than anything Hell could dish out.

Time passes. Time doesn't pass. What's the difference? Time probably isn't real here either. Why would it be, when nothing else is? Nothingness is nothing, eternity is eternal, and emptiness is –

Something _thumps_ against... you? Against nothing? You've got no idea.

But it happened. You _felt_ it, you _heard_ it. A single hard impact. It sounded... _red?_

Wait, what?

There's something else here. Two little yellow rectangles, hovering in the void, with one big word inside of each.

**|CONTINUE| |RESET|**

You slam your nonexistent palm against _'RESET'_ faster than you can think about what it could mean. The rectangle flashes gold.

Nothing happens. Nothing. It takes everything you've got not to just bust up laughing at how _stupid_ you are, falling for whatever this is. This is your cosmic punishment, isn't it? Maybe this really _is_ Hell. Alone with yourself forever, with a glimpse of hope that turns out to be completely fake. You wonder if maybe everyone who deserves it gets their own custom Hell, just for them. How thoughtful. If Hell wasn't Hell, you'd apologize for underestimating it.

Slowly, you turn your phantom eyes over to the other... button? Is that what it is? The word feels _right_ to you for some reason. _'CONTINUE'_ and _'RESET'_ , huh?

What if... what if the other button _works?_ What if you're being too much of a pessimist? There's no such thing, but... _what if?_ Maybe you can't _'RESET'_ because there's nothing _to_ reset? That's not it. That can't be possible. Life, death, they aren't so kind. There are no second chances.

It's amazing the _'CONTINUE'_ button doesn't shatter from the imaginary force behind your fist as you try to hit it as hard as you can, with every bit of determination to live, to _matter_ , that you can muster.

A flash of gold.

It's the same. Nothing happens. Is it okay to go insane _now?_

then suddenly you're not nothing anymore

you're

somehow

even less.

 

* * *

 

When you open your eyes, the first surprise is that you open them to something that isn't nothing. The second surprise is that it's... golden... flowers.

The third surprise is the little body moaning in pain, leaving tiny smears of crimson on the petals.

You look up through a shaft of dim light, up to a familiar hole in a ceiling so, so far above,and choke on a gasp. Then you look back to the body. For a second, you actually think you're looking at yourself, but that confusion wears off quick; this kid has darker skin, smaller eyes, different ideas about what color striped shirts should be.

Who is... huh. He? She? You... actually can't tell at all. They won't be a _'they'_ , though. That would just be _too_ weird of a coincidence. Well, you'll just... you'll just use it as a placeholder. It's not like you actually think they'd be like _you._ As if you would ever meet another goddamned human who could understand. Luck has its limits.

Hey, purple-shirt, you say. Hey. Get up already. Don't be a freaking wimp. At least you got to land on flowers instead of solid rock.

They don't seem to hear you, and you feel a little bit guilty for hoping they're just in too much pain to react or notice. It's not like that'd be _good_ , but... it would mean you're not... already sure that you're still alone.

After all that time in the dark... a year? ten? a thousand years? fifteen minutes? an hour? forever? the blink of an eye?... _you might not be alone anymore._ You reach down to grab their shoulder and try to hold them steady enough to see how bad they're hurt. The only actual answer is _'really, really badly,'_ because wow, y'know? Even with the flowers, that's a crazy fall to live through. You're still not sure how _you_ lived through it.

Your hand phases right through them, and you discover that the dead still have enough life to die a little inside.

But... you can _see_ that hand, just barely. It's like, ninety five percent transparent, but it's _there_ , it's a hand, it's _your hand._ And did you feel something, just now, just barely? The slightest hint of human warmth on skin you must still not actually have?

Kid, you mutter, there's not gonna be a helpful goat boy coming for _you._ That ship already sailed.

They scratch at the dirt with their fingers, little trails hidden quickly by the thick layers of gold that sweep back after the kid leaves them displaced. Really, they ought to be coughing up blood. Something _had_ to rupture, right? Maybe not, though. You lived on better than anyone should have. Maybe, somehow, this is the same?

You sweep your hand in front of their face, _through_ their face, and realize that they're not actually fully conscious, just... writhing in pain, half-asleep or maybe half-dead. If they can't pull themself together, they're gonna be _all the way_ dead pretty soon.

Come on. Get up already. Wake up.

Beat. Silence. Something caught in your phantom throat.

... Seriously, get to it, you're freaking me out. Please?...

Another beat. Getting sick to the stomach you probably don't have.

... Please... _wake up!_

And then they do. They cough and whimper, but they're doing it... well, _on purpose_ isn't the right way to put it, but at least they're conscious of what they're doing, you guess? And... it doesn't even look like they broke anything. You guess you didn't when you fell, either. Actually, you had some theories about that, and now you think you were actually _right_ , but that's not important right now, okay, wow. Okay. You sit your weird ghost-body down next to them. Try to smile. Try to _mean_ it, even as they stare right through you like you're not there. Well, you're _not_ really there, are you? Of course not.

Name's Chara, you say, listless and resigned. How 'bout yours?

Their mouth moves, but there's no sound, and it isn't moving because of you.They can't _hear_ you, you know that already. They can't even touch you! So who are they trying to talk to right now, if not themself? Slowly, their eyes close, and yours go wide. Are they suddenly dying or something? Because that is _not acceptable._

No, okay, holy shit, they're not. They struggle to move their arms... in front of them? Fingers twitch, but whatever they're doing... just isn't working, yet. Maybe when they're a little bit less freshly fallen. What they're doing is a mystery to you, though. As far as they know, they're alone in this place. Their arms fall back down and they wince despite the distance being, like, two inches at most.

(... oh well. i guess ghosts wouldn't know asl anyway.)

... What?

Eyes open as wide as they can, which is a lot less wide than yours, and then... they seem to be trying to smile?

(my name is frisk,) a voice like diabetes in a hospital bed rasps in the back of your mind.

Wait, you can, you can h-hear me?

(i guess so! it's nice to meet you, chara.)

And just like that the kid blacks out or dies or something. No, they're breathing. So. They're okay. Totally alive. Not dead at all, nope, just passed out from the pain or whatever. Relatable. Quit worrying so much. It takes you at least another ten seconds to calm down and process what just happened.

Once you do, you discover, right here and now, that _'ghosts'_ can cry after all.

They can cry a whole lot.


	2. Door To The East

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: panic/anxiety/horrible shit attack, abrupt ableist slur
> 
> I don't usually do warnings by chapter the way I'm doing this, but a lot of the people specifically reading this kind of fic are doing it because we relate to a lot of elements of it, and I think given the themes here, it's not unreasonable to go a little bit further than my norm with warning-type stuff.
> 
> also the song link has an incredibly gory music video thing, so be prepared for that? it's also like, flashy epilepsy-hell, so. yeah. literally everyone with lyrics shown instead has them severely, disastrously wrong when they try to include them. shrug
> 
> rating bumped to M for language

 

_i am just a child, i am nothing more_

_than the basic functions i am running from_

_i curl up and wallow, my distortion_

_everything is disproportion_

 

[the naked and famous - spank](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFUZlXJuM98)

 

* * *

 

About time you got your ass up, someone says, 'cause boy do I have questions for you, kid.

Are you... dead? You really should be, after that fall. No, you don't think so; being dead probably wouldn't hurt so bad. Voices in your head... well, that's not supposed to be a good sign, but it's okay with you. You don't really mind that kind of stuff. Sometimes it makes life more interesting! Plus, it's not like you have to listen if you don't feel like it.

Oh, wow. Is that _your_ blood all over these pretty flowers? That's not good. It's not too much, really; a lot of the patch is still clean. It could be worse! You sigh, sort of relieved. The ghost kid is watching you impatiently. Oops.

(sorry, ghost kid! i got a little distracted.)

Your arms are still stiff and bruised and achey from your landing, but you'd just get blank looks if you tried to sign anything, anyway. They're a ghost, but they're also a kid, so the chances of them understanding you are even worse than it is with adults.

Meh. It's fine. I mean, it'd probably be weird if you _weren't._

(wait, did you really _hear_ that? so that wasn't a dream?)

They hover a few inches above the ground, legs crossed, and raise an eyebrow. Aw. You never could get that to work, the one eyebrow at a time thing... No, that's not relevant. Who _is_ the ghost? That's more important. And... can they actually... can they really hear you? The idea makes your head spin.

I love how you're more surprised by _that_ than the whole ghost thing. I mean, I'm not _exactly_ a ghost, but, you know. Whatever this whole deal is.

A moment passes in silence. You sniff and blink a few times. They look you over sort of awkwardly. You're used to that. It doesn't really get to you anymore. Plus, this _is_ kind of weird. ::Get up:: Ugh, in a second, jeez. ::Get up:: Fiiiine. Wincing and biting your lip, you manage to sit all the way upright.

Uh... are you, like... gonna cry or something?

(no, no, i won't! i'm just... really happy? i think. it's complicated.)

The ghost sighs. Their shirt is nice. You wonder what it means. Green with a yellow stripe. Oh, no, you're doing it again... it probably doesn't mean anything. They just liked the colors or something. You shouldn't ask. They'd just get annoyed with you.

(um, i know you said you had questions, but... is there a washrag anywhere, or some paper towels?)

They hover incredulously and then bust out laughing. You smile mildly and wait for them to finish wiping their eyes. It's interesting that ghosts – no, they said they were something else – spirits? hmm. It's interesting that spirits can cry, and this one didn't just tear up from the giggles; their ghost-eyes are already kinda puffy and red.

Alright, you definitely have a concussion. No more passing out for you, then.

You shrug. Maybe you do have a concussion. There's no mirror around to check your pupils and you don't want to trouble them to look for you, but there aren't really any other symptoms, so you're probably fine either way. It was a little silly to ask about that in a big weird ancient ruin, anyway. Then you remember! They slowly look more and more confused while you rifle through your pockets and... a-hah! You were right, they're still there.

(sorry, could i have a minute to clean up?)

Ohhhh. What, you can't stand seeing a little blood and dirt on you? _I_ sure don't care about it. ... wait, what are you – oh my god are you fu — freakin' kidding me?

Shrugging again, you make sure there's still blood-free space on one of the tissues you've been carrying and get back to carefully cleaning off the flowers. It takes a minute or two, but you _think_ you got all of it... they're layered so thick that you're scared you might have missed a spot, though... no, you're being rude ignoring the ghost for so long, you'd better just move on. At least the flowers are very springy! You actually didn't really damage them at all when you fell.

(thank you for waiting. um... chara, right? i think you said that was your name?)

Yep, that's me. You're Frisk, unless that was the concussion talking.

(hehe, yeah. that's my name. i know it's a little weird. sorry.)

The hell are you sorry for?

(i guess... for being inconvenient.)

And you care about that... why, exactly?

You tilt your head to the side a little bit, trying to understand what they mean. This really  _is_ a weird ghost spirit. They're so nice, though! ::Door to the east:: Not right now, you're busy. The door will still be there when you need it, unless it's not, but you're pretty confident that it will be.

Suddenly, you realize you have a super important question to ask. It's probably okay, since it's really fundamental to the area.

(can i ask you a... question?)

Augh, you _almost_ managed not to cringe.

Hey, fire away. Whatever whenever. Can't promise I'll answer or tell the truth, though.

(thank you! i can probably do a better job if you... um... if you tell the truth?)

They look sort of grossed out. You swallow, hard. Then they turn their head kind of down and away, like they feel bad about something, ::Door to the east:: although you can't imagine what.

I'll... sorry. I won't lie to you. I still can't promise I'll answer everything, but I...

(are you okay?...)

Yes! God! I'm fine! Great! Look, I won't tell lies, alright? I tried to talk to... someone else, and you really are the only one who can hear me, so. So, I guess. Whatever. You know what I mean.

You honestly don't, but you're supposed to, so you'll just try to keep that in mind and see if you can figure it out later, in case it's important. ::Door to the east::

(so... are there really monsters down here? sorry sorry i know that sounds stupid, but you're a ghost – i mean you said you're not so you're, um, i'm not really sure, but i thought that maybe —)

Chara jerks away from you and waves a transparent hand almost frantically, and you quit thinking at them as fast as you can. You swallow again. Wait to see what comes next.They're not too hard to see, either; maybe only halfway transparent, way more _real_ than you would have guessed from a spirit thing. You wonder if they can touch you. If they will.

Chill out, k – Frisk, whoa. It's not stupid. And... yeah, there are. There are monsters all over.

They're not mad. You let some of the tension slip out of your shoulders. Wow, so monsters really are real, for real? That's amazing! Unless they want to kill you or eat you. That wouldn't be all that bad, but it wouldn't be amazing, either.

(are they... nice?)

You wait for them to laugh and call you a _'_ _goddamned_ _stupid_ _little shit_ _'_ , or _'_ _fucking_ _retard_ _ed_ _'_ , or... but Chara looks kind of blown away, and they don't say anything like that at all. They actually... smile, although it's crooked and weird and a little bit pained.

... yeah. They actually are. I promise I'm not lying, okay? They're not like... us. _Humans._

They say that word, _'humans',_ like the thought makes them sick with contempt.

Monsters actually _care_ about each other. It's kinda nuts, but... heh. It's better down here, Frisk. It's like a good dream you don't have to wake up from. It's not like they're all saints, but people here are actually... _nice_ to you, sometimes.

Humans care about each other! You care about humans. And you've _seen_ humans caring about each other before, in all sorts of places. Chara's entitled to their feelings, though. It's not really any of your business.

(they're nice? would they even ::Door to the east:: be nice to a stranger? a human?)

Your ghost friend has just hovered a good six feet back, as if they're suddenly afraid of you.

(... did i say something wrong? i'm sor –)

Oh my god, stop apologizing! No, you just, well... ah, never mind. I'm just imagining things.

They float back over, although they stay a little farther away than they were before, and then they look at you, expecting... _something_. What, though? What are you supposed to do next? You don't know how to guess what anyone would expect down here. You... you don't...

_you don't know how to guess what anyone would expect down here._

You just gonna, I don't know, stand there forever?... Frisk?... Hey, um, hello? Earth to clean-freak?

Some kind of animal is thrashing around underneath your skin, behind your ribs, in your throat. You stay perfectly still. It's okay. When they get mad about it and do something to you, you'll remember how to move. You just have to wait.

Easy, kid. Breathe, alright? Um.

Chara looks around. You're not really sure what they're looking for, though. ::Door to the east:: Can't, not yet. That can happen soon, though. Chara is staring. Still staring. You try to move. It doesn't work. You try to breathe. It sort of works.

_ HEY! _

shouted right into your face and a lot of things shatter and this time you land on rock instead of the flowers which is good but it's but it's well it's but you but

(sorrysorryimsorryimsorryillbegoodimsorrysorryimpleaseillbegoodpleaseimsorryididntmeantoididnt)

they don't say anything just get down low where you're wheezing and trying to be small even though it's useless is there still blood on the flowers you weren't sure how could you not be sure you have to ::Door to the east:: check have to make sure rock hurts your knees brushing petals around pollen in the air you did you got it all you were good you did it. You did it. You ::Door to the east:: were... good.

You were _good._

 

* * *

 

Frisk is sitting up against a rock wall now, folded up into a little ball, head on their knees, arms around their legs, and every so often they'll _twitch_ and let out one of these horrible, _horrible_ little... gasps? More like an inhaled whimper than anything else. You're _'sitting'_ next to them, not _too_ close, but not exactly very far, either.

If you had any question whatsoever about why _this_ kid climbed the mountain, well, that question's answered itself as far as you're concerned.

You tried being... nice, at first. Because maybe if they were like you, maybe... there could be another human who rejected life back on the surface. Another kid who could _understand._ You feel bad about that, sort of; about _hoping_ they were just as fucked up as you. Turns out being right is pretty gross.

What feels way worse is the fact that you can't even touch them.

Like, you doubt they'd _want_ that? Obviously? It's stupid to even think about. You lean back and sputter as you phase partway through the wall and then get sort of _bounced back out_ or something. It pisses you off, the way you instantly snap your eyes back on the little ball of ruin next to you, pisses you off that the first reaction you had to finding out how solid objects interact with you was to make sure you didn't freak them out, instead of being annoyed that you can't actually do as much cool ghost stuff as you were hoping.

They don't seem like they even noticed. You get the feeling that they're somewhere else right now. Somewhere they probably don't deserve to be, probably never deserved to be in the first place. If you do anything, though... what if you make it worse? It's not really your problem. You've got no logical reason to waste time on them. They're sure as hell not _your_ responsibility.

They're _not._

But you look at them there, lost in a world they already escaped, and you think to yourself, _so this is what it looks like from the outside._ No wonder Az never had a clue what to do when you got... weird. Even you don't know what to do about this.

Okay, screw this. Screw it! Sitting here is just wasting everybody's time. Maybe you'll make things worse, maybe you won't. Might as well flip the coin.

... Hey, Frisk.

Nothing. That's... okay. You weren't really expecting anything, not... not instantly.

I'm... not gonna hurt you, okay? I mean, I literally _can't_ hurt you, and I wouldn't really want to anyway? Ugh, god, I sound so _sappy_.

They might have twitched in your direction, or maybe you're imagining it. It's a strange, alien little motion, and it makes you wonder if you actually _were_ imagining that creepy-ass moment from a few minutes ago or if it legit happened. What even was that? They sound like a melted candy store and it seems like they don't know how not to smile, and then right in the middle of a damn sentence, just, BAM. Dead eyes, no expression, and that... it _was_ their voice, but it didn't feel like it was _Frisk_ using it.

A little chill goes up your not-spine. It... probably wasn't your imagination. You're still not saying a single freaking word about it, though. You don't think they even _noticed_. The transition away from and back to their original sentence was so smooth it made you doubt whether it was even real.

It was _definitely_ real. You just really wish it wasn't.

Dammit. Think, idiot. What would you do if you were trying to cheer up Asriel?

Frisk? Um. What... how did the ghost feel after a long day at work?

Silence. A hiccup. This is fucking stupid.

 _ Dead _ tired.

You try to smile like you mean it. The worst thing about smiling is honestly meaning it but still ending up looking like you _don't._ That's pretty much you in a nutshell: Chara Dreemurr, a total fake even when they're being real.

What does a goat eat for dinner?

... are they breathing just a little slower? You're not sure if you should feel guilty manipulating them or annoyed seeing how easy they're making it.

Literally anything.

No clue what _that_ noise meant. All your _good_ bad jokes feel like they're just out of reach. Of course now that you actually _need_ the family legacy, you're just coming up blank. Frisk is... they're a little smaller than you, but right now they look about six years old, even though they have to be at least nine or ten. They're just this... tiny bundle of hyperventilating blue and purple stripes.

You shut your eyes and take advantage of the fact that _you_ can breathe just fine. It's weird how even though all of you's see-through, closing your own eyes still puts you in the dark.

... Hey, Frisk?

You _think_ that tiny, wet noise was directed at you.

What did the asshole spirit say to the kid who doesn't talk?

It takes a little effort to meet their eyes when they don't seem to know _how_ , but you sort of pull it off anyway. Jeez, they make everything so _hard._

... and you're just distracting yourself. Grow up. Bite the bullet, even if you'll seriously flip your shit if you blush at how lame you're about to sound. Why is saying true things always completely pathetic, horrible, or both?

... they said... do you want to... be my friend?

Their stare's so many thousands of yards it could probably break orbit, but now it's definitely pointed at you. A second goes by, and then a few more, and then at _least_ , like, a minute, and you're about to be ticked off by all the waiting when they slowly, slowly move their head, up, down, up, down. For some reason, you're happy that they don't smile. Maybe _'relieved'_ is more like it, but you're not sure why you'd _be_ relieved, so... blarrrgh.

(... you... really want to be my... my _friend?_ )

You fix your eyes _super extra_ onto theirs, discovering whole new levels of meeting people's gazes in the process, and you nod back.

Yeah. I really do.

They swallow, sniffle jerkily. A bit less wrapped up, a bit less tense. You have absolutely no clue why you say what you say next.

I want to really, really bad.

You wish you could smack yourself upside the head for letting _that_ slip out, but they look at you like a puppy somebody threw out a window, and for just a second you see white fur, dull fangs, and silly dangly ears.

God. You really are one disgusting piece of work, aren't you.

Where the fuck is a knife when you need one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter estimate of 9 total has been removed, because this one was going to be over twice as long, but I decided this was a good spot to split it up and let my wrists take a break from pounding out words about sad children. This kind of breaks the ability to be totally sure how many actual chapters are going to be in here, although the amount of story covered should be close to the same.
> 
> Expect a few days before the next chapter. I'll be spending the time alternating between ice and heat, if you get my meaning.  
> EDIT: Just realized that sounds like "Gonna spend a few days watching GoT," when I meant "Gonna spend a few days taking care of my limbs"  
> EDIT-EDIT: ALSO just realized that there is a part in here that was meant as a reference to <https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140647>, which is an excellent fic and you should read it immediately, but it struck me that 'I love the concept of trying to help someone deal with a panic attack by telling stupid jokes and it seems like such a Chara thing to do' could easily be mistaken for 'I plagiarized the shit out of this thing,' and that would be the worst on a number of levels.


	3. You Just Wanted To See Me Suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for so many things, here and in the future. Honestly, I'm not great at warnings and shit, so if there's something specific that REALLY stands out, I'll say something. Otherwise, uh... proceed at your own risk?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~i am really bad at properly resting my wrists for more than like one day~~

 

_in the past i've always had trouble on my mind_

_i'm gonna take that feeling, and leave it far behind_

_and as i go down this path, traveling through my fate_

_lately, i have begun to awake_

 

[heartless bastards – hold your head high](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLPhtRVnpS4)

 

* * *

 

Sooo... you uh... you feelin' any better?

Are you... supposed to? No, of course you are, that's dumb. It's annoying when you cry where people can see, and you don't want to cause trouble. So the answer is _'yes'_. That's familiar, you can handle that. You were good. But then you were bad, and you probably ruined it. Or did you? There's so much happening that doesn't make sense.

So you nod and try to smile, but your face won't listen and your arms won't let you unwrap them from your shins. This might... this might get...

You don't have to lie, stupid. I'm your... your friend.

It seems like Chara is struggling not to stare at the ground. You get that, you really do, but you're so _lost_ right now. Is it really okay for _you_ to have a friend? Aren't friends something that _people_ are supposed to have? Why would someone... But... You have to try, right?

You know how friends work, sort of. Aren't they supposed to be nice to each other, at least mostly? Friends are people who _like_ being near each other. They go places and do things, they play _together._ And you've heard and sort of seen things on TV, straining your eyes and ears hiding at the top of the stairs and being very very quiet, and friends... are supposed to tell each other the _truth._ Bad friends don't always do that, but good friends do, right? And you're... you're not _good_ , but maybe you can be good at _this,_ if you try really really really hard?

You'll ::Door to the east:: _not right now please_ try, then. Because you were more bad than you were good, but they were _still_ nice to you. _Chara_ is good. They're _too_ good. You _have_ to try, because... because you're supposed to... no, that's not really it.

You have to try, because you really, really _want_ to. You bite your lip and keep quiet even though tears are pouring out non-stop again, and somehow you make your arms listen again, and you try to be a good friend.

_* it's not a lie. i do feel better. just not all the way better._

... they don't say anything. Oh, jeez, what did you do?

I have... _no_ idea what that was supposed to mean. Is that sign language? Just talk in my head like you did before.

Oh. That's right. You were so busy fixing things that... well. It's so strange, just being able to _think_ at someone and have them hear you. Chara doesn't even have to _look_ at you to understand you. Actually, looking doesn't even matter to them, since they can't read what you say anyway.

(i forgot i can do that. i'm just not used to being able to... be heard.)

Okay, sure, go you, but what were you _saying?_ Or, signing, or whatever?

(i said... i said, it's not a lie, i do feel better. just not all the way better.)

It... ugh. Yeah. I get you.

Chara sighs – wait, do spirits breathe air? how does that work – and picks at their sleeve, frowning at the 'fabric.'

(c-chara? can i ask you something?)

They tilt their head in your direction and shoot you a withering glare. You try your hardest not to freeze up too much. Can friends look at each other like that without it meaning they're thinking up punishments? Maybe they can.

You don't need _my_ damn permission to ask questions.

... oh. That doesn't exactly make sense, but you'll try to understand, and you'll try not to ask them about asking them things. It's obviously annoying. You never, ever want to be annoying.

(sorry. i guess i was just wondering... _why_ you want to be my friend.)

They do the raising-one-eyebrow thing again and shrug. You're not sure if that means you're supposed to know the answer already, which seems impossible, or if they don't know how to answer. Hopefully it's the second one. It's really hard to keep someone happy when you were supposed to know something you couldn't know.

Do I _need_ a reason?

(... i don't know. it's just that, friends are people who like each other, right?)

Yes, Captain Weirdo, that's kinda the whole point.

A weird thrill goes through you, and you're... not sure how you feel. Not even unsure of how you're _supposed_ to feel, which is pretty common, but what your actual real feelings are. Maybe one of you is wrong about what friends are?

(then i can't be your friend, right? if that's what it means.)

Hurt flashes across their face for a split-second, and now they just look kind of irritable again. Well, not _exactly_. There's something else there that you're not familiar with, too.

Man, brutally honest, huh? Jeeeez. I guess I can't _make_ you like me, but you don't have to be an asshole about it.

(what?! no! i do like you. you're _nice_ to me.)

... I don't think any of this counts as _'nice'._ And I said I wanted to be your friend, so if you _like_ me, then why the hell not? What, is it too weird to hang out with a dead person?

(no, but friends are _people_ who like each other. so don't they both have to be people?)

Are you _seriously_ like, ghost racist or something? 'Cause you can _seriously_ take that and shove it up your ass. No, don't even start – aargh, what are you sniffling over _now_ , you nutjob?

(sorry, i'm sorry, i just don't understand, because you want to be friends but i'm not a person so doesn't that make it impossible? i'm sorry, i know i'm really stupid, i'll, i'll try to be less dumb –)

_ What _ did you just say?

Their face goes cold, hard, and you can't help but shrink into yourself again, because last time someone looked at you like that it hurt to walk for a month, and they said they can't touch you but maybe they were just joking and they probably want to even if they can't and

Who the fuck told you that?

(who told me what? i'm _really_ sorry, i'm confused, i'm sorry...)

You are the _only other human being I have ever seen_ who I don't want to cut into pieces. Who the _fuck_ told you you're not a _person?_

(everyone.)

... I'm an idiot. You climbed this mountain. You're from the valley, aren't you. You must be.

(... yes, i am?)

I swear to god, someday I'm going to raze every _goddamned_ building in that place. I'm gonna _slit throats._ I'll drink their _blood_ and burn their _homes_ and I'll _salt the earth_ and... _aaaargh!_

... You really don't have any idea what to say to that at all. ::Door to the east:: Almost, okay? You'll take the advice, you're just _busy_ right now. Chara's face just turned into of one of the single most terrifying things you've ever seen but they're not, not mad at _you,_ so, so... huh? Suddenly the anger's being overwritten with... embarrassment?

Uh. I think I basically just said I was gonna murder your parents. That... was not on purpose.

(i don't have parents. the grown-ups said i don't get to have those, because i was a mistake.)

I take that back, it was totally on purpose. Look, Frisk, who cares what a bunch of scumbags from _that_ hellhole of a town have to say? _I'm_ your _friend_ , and _I_ say you count, so that's _that,_ got it?

Oh. Is that how it works?

... You're a person now? Just like that? Is that really how it works? You think the stuff parents say is true even if friends say it's not, but you don't _have_ parents, so. Then. Then, then. If you're a person then you're _real._ Then you're... you're real, now.

Chara made you _real._

You're not even a part of their shitty world anymore. They're all _gone_ , Frisk. For all you should care, everybody you ever knew might as well be dead. It's like being... alone. When you come down here, you get to eat chocolate and you can yell at people who yell at you and getting in trouble just means being grounded and you can probably not even get in a ton of fights, it's.

_They_ swallow hard, which seems backwards.

It's... kinda _better_ , you know? Like somebody could actually have a real life here.

Chara's... you think they're actually.. they're _right._ You used to get to go out in the woods and hills sometimes when you weren't being useful and everyone was sick of having to see you around, and you were allowed to do anything because no one was there to expect anything, and you'd skip rocks across your favorite stream, and draw things in the dirt with your fingers or with a stick, and you could look anywhere you felt like looking, and those are all the best parts of your life and...

And if it's the same, then... if _Chara_ says it, your _friend_ says it, it's _true,_ so then this is the same?

You're allowed to not have to be allowed to do things? You just _can?_

::Door to the east::

It's just like that! Like that, right?! It's just like how you don't have to take _advice!_ Advice can't ever hurt you or hit you or yell at you. Sometimes the advice voice gets impatient, but it never keeps on pushing for too long. The advice voice isn't the same thing as all the people so if _everything_ here is like that then Chara _has_ to be right, they'd be right even if they weren't your friend but somehow they are your friend so they're even _more_ right, right?

( _oh._ )

Chara looks at your stunned face and your open mouth and fidgets with their sleeve, and you look back at Chara with eyes that are seeing a whole new universe.

 

* * *

 

Frisk is apparently Asriel's doormat personality on _crack,_ and now they're staring at you like they just saw the face of God and they are _completely_ down with it... so, wow. _That's_ a thing now. It's kinda creepy. It's kinda messed up. It's kinda _super_ creepy, actually.

It is _so_ _freakin'_ _cool._

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, your new worshiper's quit crying and the stuff they say is at least 20% less crazy. The chamber that you've been in is getting super boring, plus having those flowers here is making you nervous – the pollen is all weird, it smells almost like _gunpowder_ for some reason – and Frisk keeps looking at that door more and more anxiously.

It's time to go home. Or at least... to go to what _used_ to be your home.

They follow you along that old familiar path, rounding a corner to... oh, hey, you've never seen this species of monster before. It's a tiny flower, all smiles and offensively cute wiggly petals. You wonder what it's called. Hopefully its name isn't as dumb as some monster names are, those kinds that sound like awkward parodies of other things or concepts.

"Howdy!" Frisk stops dead in their tracks, which is good, because so do you. Okay. Chill out, Chara, more than two people in the underground say the word _howdy,_ there's nothing to get worked up over. "I'm Flowey. Flowey the flower!"

Groaning, you smack your palm against your face, which you can actually sort of feel, although all the things you _'feel'_ that should be physical are muted and off-kilter. At least this thing is apparently one of those sweetness incarnate kinds of simpler monster. This should be easy enough, unless Frisk goes and makes it all weird.

... and of course they just stand there, not even signing anything. Well... eh. Since you don't count at all even if you're technically not alive, this _is_ the first time they've seen a monster. They're allowed to be a _little_ bit of a loser about it.

Just a little bit, though.

"Hmmm... You're new to the underground, aren'tcha? Golly, you must be so confused."

You grit your teeth and kind of slowly float back a bit. Coincidences like this _really_ aren't what you wanted from the second monster you've seen since you rose from the grave. Actually, huh... It crosses your mind that maybe ghost _monsters_ could hear you or even see you. Shit, you _really_ hope that's true, only having one person to talk to is eventually gonna drive you _insane_ if it's not.

"Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess little old me will have to do."

Wait, what does _that_ mean?

"Ready? Here we go!"

The air ripples for a moment – wait wait, hey, is this thing – and Frisk lets out a surprised squeak.

There it is, shining inside their chest: Frisk's soul, blood-red and pulsing. The same color as yours. This is the first time you've ever seen another human's soul, but you remember they come in... how many colors was it? Six or seven? Seven, right, right, because the humans needed to put the power of all seven types together to create the barrier in the first place, duh.

The most important thing here suddenly clicks. _Frisk's soul is showing_.

Okay, just stay chill... if you make Frisk freak out, they're as good as dead, and it's not hard to make them freak out. You just... have to... _dam_ _mit_ , you _hate_ being scared for anybody who isn't Asriel, god _damn_ it, _why_ can't anyone but this total wreck of a human hear you? If it wasn't for _that,_ you wouldn't have a reason to bother caring at all!

Frisk... Don't flip out, okay? But...

"See that heart? That is your SOUL, the very culmination of your being! Your SOUL starts off weak, but can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV." ... Huh. What does _that_ stand for? This is way too suspicious. Even in the underground people aren't _angels,_ things can still be dangerous, _really_ dangerous in theory, and right now all of your senses are _screaming 'DANGER, DANGER, DANGER, OH SHIT, DANGER, GRAB SOMETHING SHARP_ _AND/_ _OR HEAVY, GRAB IT_ RIGHT NOW _.'_

You have to talk fast if you're going to get this across without stressing them out so bad they lock up like they did when you yelled in their face. Okay. This is doable! Totally doable.

Pay attention to everything I'm saying. This is weird. You shouldn't normally be seeing your SOUL unless a monster is targeting you with magic and not all magic is bad but some of it is and I know I just got done saying monsters are nice but they're still people okay so some of them can still be pretty messed up and

"What's LV stand for?" ... Frisk isn't even signing anything to it. This is a _monologue._ _'Flowey'_ has this practiced, it's _practiced this speech._ "Why, love, of course!" Oh really. _Does it now._ Since when has anyone needed to abbreviate a four letter word? This thing has been _waiting._ It had a _script_ in case something like this happened, in case another human fell. This is so bad, really really bad. Frisk's eyes flick back and forth between you and the flower and you can tell they're not sure what to think, and that attitude seems like it could lead to incredible death, and this is really _really_ creepy and

"You want some love, don't you?"

Frisk, this thing is not friendly. Something's seriously wrong. Listen to me, okay?

(b-but it's... but, it's a little flower! it doesn't have anything to hurt someone with, right?)

_ We don't know that, okay? _ Magic is a thing now! That's real, Frisk. That's gonna be part of your life, so get used to the idea that  _everything_ you meet has some kind of magic, and you don't know what kind right off the bat, or what it does –

"Don't worry, I'll share some with you!"

It winks and sticks out a cute little tongue. This is getting _fucked up._ Now _you're_ starting to panic. They're not gonna listen. They're gonna stand there and listen to a stupid _evil flower_ instead of their _friend_ and they're going to _die_ because of _you –_

We're friends, right? You trust me, right? _Frisk, promise you trust me._

(i, i, i promise? i promise! but i –)

"Down here, love is shared through... little white..." it pauses, just barely, but why would it need to pause, " _friendliness pellets._ " Oh god. _'Friendliness pellets?'_ That's complete bullshit. _'Flowey'_ here is gonna play Frisk like a fiddle and you can't even rip it out by the roots, you can't do anything but _float here_ and _not be listened to,_ no, no no no, you won't let a _friend_ stand there and _die right in front of you_ , that kid has to listen to you _right now –_

A fan of five twirling bullets pops out of the flower and hovers in the air.

_ Frisk, those are BULLETS.  _ Stay calm and get ready to dodge. Get ready to fight or run,  but no matter what happens, _do not let those touch you!_ When I say to dodge, _do it._ Don't think twice, just do it and be ready to –

"Are you ready?" No. No they're not ready you slick little son of a bitch – "Move around! Get as many as you can!"

And the bullets start to move. They're slow, slow enough that a really gullible kid wouldn't get startled and move away by accident, this whole thing is _nightmarish –_

(chara. my advice.)

... Your what?

(my advice is telling me to touch them. i never get bad advice.)

WOW okay you're gonna unravel _that_ statement later but right now you have to wrangle this shell-shocked purple-stripe kid back to sanity –

It's wrong! It's _wrong, whatever that means, please, if I'm your friend then PLEASE trust ME!_

Frisk is breathing way too fast. Shit shit shit shit _shit_ the bullets are about to _land_

and they miss by a hair. The magic was going _straight for their head_ , and they jerked it away at the last possible instant. You don't have a heart, but you can feel it _pounding_ against the inside of the ribs you don't have either.

The flower's smiley face shifts, a shit-eating, patronizing, _annoyed –_

"Hey buddy, you missed them. Let's try again, okay?"

(it looks annoyed, chara.)

_ No shit, you think?! _

(no, it looks ANNOYED, chara it's going to hurt me it's going to –)

It _wants_ to hurt you, Frisk, but it's not gonna, okay, because you're going to chill out and _fucking listen to me,_ I can get us – _you_ through this, just trust me, don't be an idiot, don't freak out, you have to start moving, you have to attack it or run –

(am i going to die, is it going to kill me, chara am i going to –)

NO. You're _not gonna die_ if you can just _listen to me!_

(i don't _want_ to die anymore, i met someone nice, i don't want to _die,_ not... not _now!_ )

Five more. The bullets don't hesitate. They're still slow, thank _god_ , but they go right for the chest this time, right for the SOUL. Frisk isn't up to this yet. They're not gonna pull it together and fight, hell, they don't even have a _weapon_. Running is your best choice, they've got to _run_ the second there's a chance or this is all over _right here and now._

_ Do not let those touch you,  _ and when I tell you to run, you're gonna  _run like hell_ and ditch this little bastard, okay?

Frisk stumbles out of the way.

(i don't have to listen to advice but. it's always good advice. i don't always listen to the advice but it says to let those touch me?)

Trust _me_ okay? Just trust _me_ and everything is gonna be okay!

(it's telling me to do it though it's telling me over and over it's never been like this before, chara all the advice is telling me to run through them chara i'm scared i'm scared i'm really really scared!)

The flower is pissed. It's barely even trying to hide _that_ anymore.

"Is this a joke? Are you braindead?"

(... am i? other people say that. but. are they wrong? you said... i don't know what to...)

YOU'LL LITERALLY _HAVE A DEAD BRAIN_ IN A SECOND IF YOU LISTEN TO THIS THING!

"RUN. INTO. THE. _BU –"_ Slipped up, you little _shit,_ and Flowey tries to mask it with a cough, _"friendliness pellets."_ You slam your fist right into its lying face and try not to scream in rage when, of course, you phase right through it.

That spread is _fast_ this time, it's too fast for them to _dodge_ it, they can't _deal_ with thi... with... _whoa._

Frisk twists in between two, ducks almost casually under another, sidesteps the rest. Their movements are efficient and fluid in a way that's totally unlike what you've seen of them so far. They're moving like this is _easy_. And then they stop again and you rip at your hair because _come ON,_ you don't know what the _hell_ just happened but could it have maybe lasted more than _one second!?_ You know, long enough to _get out of this place!?_

Flowey's face...

changes.

You feel like you're looking at a the most horrifying carved pumpkin in the history of ever. Its squeaky voice _distorts,_ echoes off itself, and the air around the thing looks like it's full of faint, blurry static.

"..̀.͞ ͢Y͠o͢u ͝kno̕w͜ wha̛t͏'͝s̨ ͜g̕o̸ing͜ ón͡ h̕er͜e, d͠o͠n'̢t ̴you?"

_ YES, YES WE DO! FRISK – _

_"_ _Ỳo͏u just́ ̸w̶a͡n̨t̷èd ̨to śe͠e mȩ su͡f͡f̕e̡r._ _"_

... It's... it's all over. Rings of spinning white bullets sprout out of the empty air all around Frisk, twisting and turning and multiplying. You underestimated this thing, it was just toying with them, and there's nowhere to run, no way to slip by, nothing to defend themself with. Your arms itch, your chest hurts, the air is soaked with dust and fear and cheap fireworks –

**"D ̶̕͢Í͝ ̨̕͢E̶."**

They're fucked. All you can do is watch them, well... _die._

Bullets are closing in, Frisk is crying and looking wildly in every direction and hugging themself, and they're about to get shot and if you hadn't died like an _idiot_ maybe you could have done something, but oops! You did! And just like last time, it's somebody _else_ who has to pay for _your_ mistakes –

The bullets burst into flame, so fast that the fire is mostly an afterimage left on your eyes, and they're gone. You blink. Flowey's petals curl weirdly in confusion, it looks to the side, and –

A thick ball of fire nails it _right_ in the face, blasting it out of the soil and across the cave. You pump your fist in the air out of pure instinct. For a second you think it's actually _dead_ , but if _that_ didn't dust it instantly... _dammit._ The bastard burrowed away. Frisk collapses to their knees with a small cry of pain, looking up at the monster that just saved their life, who did what you couldn't.

You look, too, up at someone tall, at clothes embroidered with familiar runes, and your reality spirals down into a single word.

_... Mom? _


	4. Cinnamon Or Butterscotch?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for mild depiction of self-harm  
> and y'know. various other miseries  
> bonus points to anyone who catches the key phrase for some foreshadowing

 

_disappeared from public places, never seen again_

_how long has it been? how long has it been?_

_underneath the surface, none of us deserve this_

_underneath the surface, we break apart_

 

[circa survive – glass arrows](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_-Hf1oj3jI)

 

* * *

 

There's a monster standing in front of you. Not a flower monster. This one is big, so much taller than you, and they're...

Chara's... mother?

"What a terrible creature," she says, "torturing such a poor and innocent youth..." You stare up, dizzy, and there's just. too. much. Too much fear, too much confusion, too many things Chara said that are still bouncing randomly through your mind, too much heat and smoke in the air. When you flick your head towards Chara they're just floating in place, fingers digging into their sleeves, and their eyes are so empty and full at the same time, and something cracks somewhere and too much becomes _too much_ becomes _TOO MUCH_ becomes _EVERYTHING_.

You don't know how to do anything. It's all washed out to somewhere far, far away from here. All you can do is close your eyes, shut out even just a little input, and it's not enough it's not enough but it's still something, and somehow you stay conscious.

"Ah, do not be afraid, my child," the monster says, and she sounds worried about something and you think Chara says something too but there's _too much_ to be sure and you kneel in place, shaking, caught up in hugging yourself, sobbing in a hurricane of _everything_.

Time passes.

You hear things. You feel things. Something happens somewhere. Advice comes and you can't understand it. Something is all around you. Soft. Warm. A voice in your ears, gentle, maybe saying something, maybe not.

... and time passes.

 

* * *

 

What do you say to her? How the hell can you even... _try_ to... how do you explain? Do you say _'I'm sorry?'_ Just like that, like it's something somebody _can_ say they're _'sorry'_ about? Hi, Mom, sorry I killed myself and then got your son killed too, I feel _really_ bad about it, please don't yell at me? Yeah. Fucking. Right.

The only way somebody can apologize for what you've done is by dying, and you can't even do that.

You realize, slowly, that she can't hear you anyway. Holy shit, you are the most _hilariously_ stupid person in existence. This kind of material couldn't write _itself,_ whatever the hell that means, and you notice that you're laughing, low and shaky, an ugly staccato noise that couldn't come from anyone whose heart didn't pump out black mud.

Frisk's totally shut down and wow you spent _forever_ getting them to chill out and there's all that work undone less than a couple minute after you stepped out the door, what an incredible freaking _joke_ there, and oh hey didn't you try to calm them down with shitty jokes, no wonder it sort of worked because it was just part of an even bigger joke and the joke is that _you_ could have ever done _anything_ decent that didn't turn inside out and suffocate itself so fast that there was never a point in doing it in the first place, and you just can't _stop._ Does _'giggling'_ apply when that's what you're doing but you sound more like a dying animal?

, ! , , ?

Words definitely happened there, even though there's like a zero percent chance Frisk is paying attention, and who cares anyway when _you_ aren't even sure what you're saying because your mouth just keeps on moving without your permission?

Mom is carefully kneeling down, murmuring who-knows-what, hugging the kid, _holding_ them, and you're glad at least somebody can do something, and you're glad one of the only good people in the world is somehow here, and you're not jealous at all, not jealous that Mom is paying attention to _them_ and not _you_ or that they get to _feel_ things properly or that _they_ get to _matter_. You're not jealous, not even a little bit.

You're _not._

 

* * *

 

It feels so _good,_ whatever's happening, soothing, and maybe you're dreaming this and maybe you're not, and what finally starts to clear your head is knowing that it needs to stop. If you're awake, if you've passed out, none of that matters. You don't deserve anything that feels this nice.

When you start to wriggle your body and it goes away, you're so glad that you did the right thing, and your heart screams for you to make it come back, but that isn't acceptable. You have to be _good._

Seeing anything through wet and swollen eyes is tricky, but you have a lot of practice, and as soon as they open up again you understand what was happening. At least... you can understand the basic concept. What you _can't_ is the idea of it happening to you.

She doesn't even know you, so why would she have been... _hugging_ you? ... Oh, you've answered your own question. You feel silly. She doesn't know you, so she doesn't know that you aren't allowed to be hugged. When the grown-ups find out, you'll, you'll get...

but, _she's_ a grown-up, you think, and aren't all of _those_ ones supposed to be gone? So maybe it's... okay to let it happen, a little. Maybe it was... no, there's no maybe, you're _real_ , Chara _said_ that, and real people, they get to be hugged sometimes, don't they? Some of them get hugged all the time.

You can't just let her do it again. That's too much to ask, too much for what you can have. But. It's okay that it happened.

Those thoughts spin for a while, like water in a cup after you stir it up and pull out the spoon.

Maybe it's not okay. Maybe it is. You can wait for now, until there's a chance to find out. Until you can ask Chara. They would know. They know so many things about how things work that you never understood, that nobody ever told you, and they're your. Your _friend_.

But if this monster is Chara's mom, then, then, she must be nice, too – must be _good,_ too, right? You're not sure how humans can have big goat ladies for moms, but then what do you know about anything? She should be _good,_ though.

You look up, not as far up as before, and she smiles and you're scared and confused, but somehow you're less scared of her than any other grown-up you've met.

it's nice.

_Where is Chara?_ A wave of sick fear pulses through your chest and stomach when you realize you might have lost track, look wildly around you, but no they're here they're still here, they're right over there. It's okay. They're _here._

Hey. Frisk. Before anything else. happens. Promise me something. Okay? And promise me that if you... break your promise, then you'll, you'll _die_. Will you do that?

(yes.)

Then promise me. As my _friend_ , promise me... you won't say anything about me. Ever. To her. To anyone. Unless I say it's okay. Please. Especially her. Promise me, okay? _Promise?_

(y-yeah, i promise!)

It's a _little_ scary to make a promise like that, but you slowly realize that you don't actually mind, because if you ever had to break a promise you made to them you'd _want_ to die even if you didn't promise to. Your face twitches; it's trying to smile and it's not working, and you're not sure why you would be smiling anyway but you are, especially on the inside – shaking and lost and afraid and _happy._

Chara looks at you, and you can't read their expression and you can't guess _at all_ what _they_ are on the inside, but you don't think they're mad, and you don't think they think that you're lying. People think you're lying a whole lot, even though you could mostly only respond to them by shaking your head or nodding, but you...

If Chara is your friend, then doesn't that mean that, for _some reason,_ they trust you too?

Their mom is saying something. You snap back into position and hope you can take the things you hear next and use them to guess the stuff you missed.

"... are you frightened of me, my child?" Oh, she looks kind of... sad. And you _are_ frightened of her but you could be a lot _more_ frightened, which is almost like not being scared at all. Should you... tell her the truth? After the things Chara said, you think, you think grown-ups you don't know _must_ be people you're allowed to say things to. Maybe even the truth. It's scary. It's _hard._ But now something is burning in your chest, red and strange and weirdly familiar, and you have to try. You have to _know._

_* yes. but less than every other grown-up._

She stares and you realize just how dumb you are, because you did it without thinking, speaking in hands like you used to when you were alone, when you had a secret or a nice idea and you wanted to pretend that the advice voice could see, but no one ever understands your hands, it's weird and it makes you a freak and it makes people _..._ makes people get _annoyed_.

"Oh, poor thing... I do not know why we adults frighten you so, but I am glad that I am not worse."

It takes you at least five seconds to understand the incredible thing that just happened, and a few more to get your hands to move right again once you do.

_* you can understand what i'm saying?_

Chara's mom smiles and nods, and suddenly you're crying again.

 

* * *

 

_You. Are. Not. Jealous. At. ALL._

 

* * *

 

She talks to you for a while, and while you don't say very much, every single sign that she understands effortlessly makes weird, sparkly things jump around your thoughts. You learn a lot of things.

Her name is Toriel, and her home is somewhere in these ruins. She watches this area jin case someone falls down, and she was on her way to do her daily check when she arrived just in time. The ruins are full of "puzzles," but she can help you. Chara lets you know that they can help too. Monsters might try to fight you, but you'll be able to resolve everything peacefully if you just talk.

Uh huh. _Sure_ you will. She's always been _way_ too... well, I guess she's less wrong than she would be about _humans._

_* but i can't really talk out loud. isn't it lucky that even one monster can understand?_

"That will be fine, little one. Many monsters learn from a young age, even many who have no hands at all. It is... something of a tradition, though, if am being truthful, I do not think that anyone remembers where that tradition began."

_* i like that tradition. oh no, i'm sorry, that was really selfish of me._

"Nonsense! There is nothing to apologize for."

Yeah, see, monsters are _really weird_.

(but they're weird in such a nice way.)

... Yeah, a lot of the time. I don't know what the _fu_ – what the heck was up with that flower. Don't forget what I said about monsters being people with issues too, but don't think... don't think they're all like that, alright?

(i won't. toriel is so nice and good. which makes sense, because she's _your_ mom, isn't she?)

...

(so it makes sense that she's so good, too.)

...

(chara?)

... She's talking again, dumbass. Pay attention.

(oh. right.)

Time is very strange for a while. It's not that you aren't _listening_ , and it's not that you don't... well, at least _sort of_ understand the basic ideas the two of them are barraging you with, but it's just... it's a lot, and you're not used to very much of anything, especially things that aren't... _bad._ And so, for a while, you slide back and forth between swirling masses of information, and smaller, sharper moments.

Toriel is happy to see you listen to her... her _request,_ for you to _'practice'_ talking to monsters, but it doesn't feel like she's happy because you obeyed her; there's some other reason. _Chara_ makes fun of you for actually standing there and signing things at a stuffed practice dummy, but it doesn't feel like they _actually_ think you're stupid. It's so bizarre. You're very, very good at reading people's intentions, emotions, or at least you thought you were, but now you're realizing that you only really know what _mean_ intentions look and sound like, so you've started to look for what _isn't_ there in order to try to understand what actually _is._ Hopefully that can work.

It all feels like a dream. Monsters, magic, ghosts... those things are really strange and new, but it's not as if they're concepts you've never _thought_ about. They make it all _more_ dreamlike and surreal, but that's not the main reason. The _main_ reason is just... the way that they're treating you.

At any second you could wake up – _should_ wake up – and you hope you never, ever do. If it's a dream, if it's real, it doesn't matter, just as long as it doesn't _stop_. As long as _you_ get to stay... _real_. Stay a person. Something that's more than just a tool and a punching bag.

And dreams aren't so bad, anyway. They _can_ get bad, but sometimes they're not! Sometimes someone is hurting you, or everyone is hurting you, or you're just scared and you can't understand why, but sometimes there _are_ good dreams. You always hoped for them, whenever you found somewhere to sleep long enough to _have_ dreams, when there were no voices from downstairs or creaks coming from the porch or footsteps moving up the walk to the house.

They're always the same, your good dreams; you're in a place that's warm and cool at the same time, and it's pitch black forever in every direction but you can still see _yourself._ You're all alone in those dreams, alone to think and rest where no one can find you. Sometimes, in those dreams, you can even... _talk._ They're almost always exactly the same, and once in a rare while, the good dream will... _rescue_ you from a bad one. There's no other word for it than that.

You'll be crying, screaming, bleeding from your eyes and ears and nose and mouth, and then it all starts to dissolve into static and strange jumpy _scratches_ and suddenly there you are, alone in the blackness, and even though there's no one listening, you never forget to say _'thank you.'_

... As much as your spaciness is kinda funny to watch, I think you _seriously_ need some freakin' rest, Frisk. There's no way this is normal even for you.

(i _am_ really tired... but, we're going to your house, right? with your mom? maybe i can find a place to sleep there. i don't take up very much space.)

... guess I didn't either. Heh. And hey – listen. Can you... _not_ call her my... my Mom? Just say her name, okay? Just... _Toriel._

(um, okay. i don't understand why, but i don't mind that.)

Thanks. It's just _weird_ , hearing – after what I've... it's... I don't know.

(are you okay? you look really not okay...)

_ I'm fine,  _ chill out.  Just... whenever you call her that, it h-hurts. It's... hard to explain. So knock it off.

(i will. is it okay if i still think about her that way to myself, sometimes?)

Oh my _god_ what is your _deal?_ Yes! Obviously! You can _think_ about _anything you want!_ That's called _being alive._ Why would it matter if I can't even tell you're doing it?

(... okay, i think i understand. i know i can sort of...)

Sort of _what._

(well, i'm, i'm just scared of... making you feel bad? so i wanted to check.)

Frisk, I thought we were _over_ this shit. Okay no I'm not naive enough to have actually _thought_ that, but I still sorta _hoped_ we were over it? How many times do I have to tell you it's _not your problem_ and I'm _not_ gonna whip out a stick or something and beat you over the damn _head_ with it? I'm your friend _AND_ I'm dead.

(no, it's not that!)

So what is it then. _Enlighten_ me.

(it's just that thinking about you being sad... i don't... like it. you shouldn't have to be sad.)

... Hey. Mo – I mean, T-Toriel is talking again, _again_ , stupid. Just... pay attention to stuff that actually _matters?_ Like, for fu – ... _aagh,_ nevermind.

And like that, time passes.

 

* * *

 

If this fucking kid doesn't stop making it so hard to hate them, you're gonna end up hating their freakin' guts. Their shy, _woobie,_ oh-I'm-scared-of- _everything_ guts. Oh, they don't like you being _sad_. Whoo-goddamn-hoo. Good for them, signing themself up to ' _not like_ _'_ what's gonna be going on with you _literally for the rest of always._ At least they're getting along with... with Toriel. Or like, whatever the Frisk equivalent of _'getting along'_ actually is; their instinct to just instantly agree to _anything and everything_ makes you want to gag.

But.

You guess you really are sorta glad things aren't going worse than they are. Maybe you can take this weird little critter and make something worthwhile out of them. If they've got no spine to _this_ degree, it might just be possible to brute-force them into _growing_ one.

Last time somebody finally figured out how to stand up to other people, he got riddled with bullets and both of you... and you _died._ This time, if you can get _this_ pushover to understand how freakin' reality works _sooner..._ Well, you're not even sure _what_ it would accomplish, but you could probably benefit from having _someone_ around who can tell you to fuck off if you're being crazy and who _won't_ stop you from saving their own friggin' life.

Aaaagh, you can't stop going _back_ and _forth_ on the curse words! Even in your _head!_ M... _Toriel_ toriel _TORIEL_ never did let up about your language, and you never did quite get it under control – probably because you didn't _want_ to – and now that she's here you're even _more_ flip-floppy and inconsistent. It's stupid. It's frustrating and it wastes time. It reminds you a little too much of how hard it was learning to stop calling yourself...

well. the point is it's not easy. it's hard and it's stupid, and _you're_ stupid for _struggling_ with it.

Oh, and look at that, two seconds after getting on the _kid's_ case about spacing out, you're _halfway across the goddamn solar system._ It looks like she's giving them... some old cell phone? Must've found it at the dump. Sometimes you could talk Asriel into sneaking off there with you, and there's _always_ cool stuff to dig out. You found a friggin' _SNES_ once! How awesome was _that?_

Then you, uh, got shot like a billion times before actually finding a _controller_ or any _games_ , but it was... it was a start?

Wait. Hold up a sec, how the hell is a phone that can't even _text_ gonna be any use to Frisk? It's not like you can talk into it _for_ them or anything, that'd be way too convenient and of course in _your_ life – death? – _whatever_ , of course nothing's ever _convenient._

Looks like two-stripes is just going to make _'mmhm'_ type noises when Momtoriel Toriel _Toriel_ calls and asks questions? You figure it's better than _nothing,_ but jeez.

It's gotta _really suck_ not being able to speak out loud. Who knows _why_ Frisk can't; you had a stupid horrible childhood of your own and _you_ can toss out garbage syllables all day long. Ah well. Frisk also doesn't feel antsy about being more than two feet away from a bladed weapon. Everybody worth anything's got their _own_ stupid bullshit cross to bear, or whatever.

When Toriel pulls this kind of weird test thing that's obviously got something to do with getting Frisk to actually take action on their own initiative, which... hahahaha, _ha ha ha fuckin' ha,_ good luck with _that..._ well, the point is that she screws off to wherever and of _course_ you're the one who has to pick up the pieces. _You're_ the one who has to deal with the crying and the doubt and the blah blah blah.

... And, you're the one who's somehow able to help a little bit. You're the one who they can't stop calling _'friend.'_ You're the one they _smile_ at when they finally get their shit together, these weak, three-quarters broken _'smiles'_ if the word even applies at that point.

It... it _could_ be worse, you _guess._

What really has you feeling weird is the _ruins._ Even way out here where hardly anyone lives anymore, it shouldn't be so _dangerous._ The monsters are so aimless that it feels like they're under some evil curse of confusion. You're not sure some of them even _realize_ they're trying to kill Frisk. Monsters get stupid about magic sometimes, not really understanding that a lot of it actually _hurts_ humans, and these ones don't even seem to know what a human _looks_ like, so...

... but why _don't_ they know that?

A question you don't ever want answered flickers through your head: _how long has it been since Az and I died?_

Not to mention all the others. Why is Toriel living out _here?_ Where's Asgore? What made all these monsters lose track of their lives so completely? They're _not_ under any weird spell, and it's not like they mysteriously turned all spooky _eeeevil_ or anything _,_ so...

Everyone said you were some big _hope_ to the underground, even though that was so stupidly insane it made you laugh until Asriel cried – why was _he_ always crying over _you_ , the guy could take _anything_ and make waterworks out of it, even if that was... kind of cute in an embarrassing way – but you can't have... you mean, even _if_ you died and managed to dust the prince of all monsters all in one night, could it really have affected things _this_ _much_ _?_

Toriel calls Frisk on the phone hilariously fast. She's even more clingy and Mom-Spirited than she used to be. You kinda hover next to the phone so you can hear what she's up to, and...

"For no reason in particular," she says, with this gross hesitation she _never_ would have showed back before all of this went down, "... which do you prefer?" oh. fuck. shit. fucking shit fuck.

"Cinnamon or butterscotch?"

Cinnamon. _Obviously._

You tear yourself away from the cell and wander off for a bit so Frisk can't see you raking your nails up under your sleeves. The skin just  _won't tear_ and it's the _worst,_ but at least it does hurt, if only in a weird nonsensical ghosty way. Maybe there's more you can do to this _'body'_ and you just don't know how. Maybe you'll meet a ghost and learn some stuff!

Frisk picks butterscotch. You don't know why you're surprised. At least they made the choice themself.

Along your way through the ruins, you actually _do_ meet a ghost. They're depressed, they can't see you, they can't hear you, and they can't touch you. _You really don't know why you're_ _surprised._

_ Fuck. EVERYTHING. _

 

* * *

 

Toriel's home looks so much like, well, _home_ , that after spending a split second of infinity in a black void, just _seeing_ it has you chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep from tearing up. You'll have to... you can do this. You can! Fake it 'til you fundamentally alter your own perception of reality, y'know? Just pretend nothing about anything matters and that you don't care! It's easy. Totally... totally simple and totally easy. Yeah.

(chara...? what's... what is _that?)_

What's _what?!_ If I have to explain _every damn thing down here to_ oh holy shit, what _is_ that?

There's something in front of the house, white-gold and spiked and shiny. The closer you get to it the brighter it is... no, wait. The closer _both_ of you get, the brighter it is; there's some kind of weird resonance with each of you separately, and it takes the two of you staring at the thing point-blank and practically bumping shoulders before there's a weird little _'bloop'_ sound in your head and...

What... the... _fuck...?_

Hovering over this painfully intense star-thingy are two yellow and black rectangles. Two _buttons._

**|SAVE| |RESET|**

... You are _terrified_ of that second button. Whatever the hell's going on, you're not _'RESETting'_ freakin' _anything_ until you know what that means. The other one, though... these aren't the same buttons from when you were, uh, _extra-_ dead. _'_ _SAVE_ _...'_ Save _what?_

(my advice is saying _'_ _SAVE_ _.'_ um, a lot? kind of over and over? and that doesn't happen?)

We are having a serious frickin' talk about this _'advice'_ crap later. I wanna know if you're possessed, schizophrenic, or both.

Who are you kidding. It's probably both. Or maybe something even _weirder_ than both. You're not putting anything past the world at this point.

(should i... should one of us push that button?)

How come you're assuming it's a button?

(i have no idea. somehow i just _know._ )

Yeah, yeah. Me too, I guess. Who cares. Go for it. _The 'SAVE' button!_ Don't you go _anywhere_ near that _'RESET'_ thing, that's creepy as hell.

(i don't like how it sounds either...)

They try to push the SAVE button and their hand just passes through. Well, shit.

Ugh, here, let _me_ –

So does _your_ hand. What _is_ this bull? You CONTINUE'd or whatever when you were some weird existence that was even _less_ real than a ghost, so why...

(chara? i have, an idea?)

Then tell me already.

(right. maybe we should... push it together? at the same time, i mean.)

... yeah, sure, why not. It did get brighter for _both_ of us... also, your SOUL is showing, just thought I'd let you know. _Before you ask_ , no, I have no idea why. Kinda pretty, though. Red.

(sorry, i missed that last part. what did you say?)

Nothing. Alright, here goes _more_ nothing.

Two kids, one dead and one alive, push down on a creepy phantasmal button, and with a little noise you can't really compare to anything you've ever heard, it flashes yellow.

Well, I guess that did _something?_ Do you feel anything diff – whaaaat the fuck.

A way bigger rectangle's now hovering above those buttons, trim and lettering in bright gold, infinite black everywhere else inside, and one of the buttons just changed.

**|CHARA – LV 1 – 253:19|**

**|Ruins – Home|**

**|CONTINUE| |RESET|**

... hey frisk.

(... yeah...?)

let's... go inside.

(yeah.)

You each press your palms against the CONTINUE button eerily in sync, take a few deep breaths to get your shit under control, and you go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more bonus points to anyone who figures out what i did with the recorded playtime at the save point, so many bonus points to anyone who figures out BOTH things i did with the recorded playtime  
> these points can be redeemed for the knowledge that i am so proud of you and the mental image of revolver rounds with wet gunpowder


	5. A Room Of Your Own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of being able to tell a story we are assuming the ruins are at least a *bit* bigger than they are in the actual game. Toriel's house probably has a bathroom, too. It is what it is.
> 
> i also added a certain relationship tag because i abruptly realized this is heading in more directions than i originally expected sorry not sorry

 

_it's not in the marrow, but it's in the bone_

_you grind it down to nothing until it leaves you whole_

_but that's all you can be sure of_

_so don't let go_

 

[longwave – the strangest things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKWn6aPNoQs)

 

* * *

 

You're _really_ anxious about the buttons and that weird star-thing. It's even worse because you can tell that Chara's anxious about it too, and you survived the last few hours mostly thanks to Chara not being afraid of everything, Chara understanding so much about the underground _and_ the surface, and seeing them like they were in that moment... it feels really, really _wrong._

It's weird that whatever information that creepy black and gold screen maybe-recorded was in _their_ name. You had sort of wondered if it would be both of you, since it took both of you to _'SAVE'_ , but... that's okay. The first thought you had was _'what if they're wrong and I'm not a person and that's why,'_ but no, that can't be it, because you refuse to believe they were wrong. You... might not be able to keep refusing forever, but for now, you just want to be _happy_ for a little while. It's not that you'd forgotten what it felt like, but... when xxx xxxxxx xxxx xxxxx xx xxx xxxxx you thought _'if I ever had a soul,_ _then I_ _definitely_ _don't_ _have one_ _anymore,'_ and you knew xxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx, xxxx xxx, so why not... why not just disappear xxxxxx xxxxxxx _xxxx_ xxx xxxxxxxxx?

That way, at least it would be... at least the last choice you ever made would be _yours._

Oh, god. You're getting a really bad headache, and you're glad you haven't gotten any advice in a while. Something's _really_ different about it since you fell – it was never this _pushy_. You never got scared that you might _accidentally_ listen to advice you disagreed with, and now you _know_ your advice isn't perfect, not even here. It almost got you killed.

You think maybe it also saved your life, once it understood what was happening, and you feel twitchy and sick because you... you can't _move_ like that. The life you used to have left you pretty good at dodging things, but you were never _that_ good. Honestly, someone being _that good_ at stuff that has to do with fighting was something you thought only happened in the old comic books you'd find in the trash sometimes, in movies playing on the TV downstairs.

And you _didn't_ move like that. Not... exactly. You just got _advice,_ and the instant you agreed with it, the voiceless words were suddenly coming from over your shoulder, so close you nearly thought you felt _breath_ and then _..._ no no no you can't do this, no, not right now, later maybe but _not right now._

Right now you're going to stay in the present. You're going to remember that something in the world seems to exist just for Chara and you, that they couldn't do whatever you did unless you were there too. You're going to remind yourself whose name was _'SAVED'_ and not let yourself forget that you can leave it up to _them_. They don't understand it yet either, but they will. You _know_ they will, that you can trust them to handle it.

You think that if they were still alive, you could trip and fall off a cliff and not be afraid at all, because you honestly feel like you could trust them to pull you back before it was too late.

 

* * *

 

Toriel's house is so _warm_ and _homey_. Every time she bends down to talk to you on your level you cringe and then she's _sweet_ to you, tries to help you feel _better_ instead of... instead of a lot of things. When she takes you by the hand it's scary, it's really scary, but in the ruins Chara told you that if there was any adult in the world you could risk trusting, it would be her, and she's fuzzy and warm instead of sweaty and harsh, so you try to do it, to at least sort of talk yourself into believing that she really does care, and you wonder if this is how it would feel if she was _your_ mom, too.

Maybe someday... it's a dumb, childish fantasy, but what if... what if someday somehow you could find a way to make a dead person live again? They're still _here_ , and if ghosts are real, who knows what else is? So maybe someday they could be alive, and you could live here with Chara and Toriel and...

but childish fantasies don't come true very often. Even _you_ know that, and you don't really know very many things at all.

She shows you around the house. It's not as big as the house you used to stay in, but somehow it feels so much bigger, big enough you could almost get lost in it. You swallow a whole lot; your signs are getting sloppy as exhaustion starts to set in.

And then she

"This is it. A room of your own."

says you have your own

"I hope you like it!"

_room._

she's not even making fun of you. she... means it.

Chara is acting kind of strange, and only getting stranger as they squint and look the room over. You barely _can_ look it over, and you think about sleeping... sleeping in a _bed_ , not on a garage floor or curled up in a cupboard.

You look up at Toriel, who is smiling nervously, and you don't understand why they're both so _nice_ , why they keep acting like they _care_ how you feel – _Chara_ cares, you believe that now as much as you know how to believe _anything_ , and it makes your head spin but they don't let you argue about that, and Toriel, Chara _said_ you can basically trust her and she's _letting. you. have. your own. room?_

Trying to sign anything fails really thoroughly; you don't even know what you want to say. And then you...

Why do you do this? It always fails. You always fail. This won't work, so why are you trying?

"... hh... hhhh..." you can't you can't it doesn't work it never works it only worked a few times and you were so much smaller back then and so you wheeze for a few seconds and you _try so hard_ , but... no. You can't. It was a nice dream, but you can't, so you just force your hands to stop shaking, and you say it that way.

_* thank you._

She doesn't have time to reply before you burst into tears.

 

* * *

 

It should be fucking illegal to be able to feel so jealous of someone that you almost wish they were dead, and so happy for someone that it hurts your stomach, all at the same time. God _damn._ But no. No, you... they _deserve_ this. You can go ahead and feel jealous all you want – and you _will –_ but the reality is that Frisk isn't like you. They're an _actual good person,_ a good _human_ , which kind of makes you mad enough to set something on fire but... Asriel is a – Asriel was a good person, too, even more than other _monsters._ He deserved a home, and so does Frisk.

You'll deal. There isn't any other option but to just _deal._ Even if you _could_ do something crappy, you're not sure you could make yourself, not yet. They're such a _cheater_ , it's _bullshit!_ It's not fair how much _Asriel_ you see in the kid, it's not fair that they catch you off guard sometimes when they smile and force you to see a little flicker of _him._ You'd almost think they _want_ to hurt you that way, except they'd probably cry over accidentally stepping on a goddamn spider; you don't think they could hurt someone even if they wanted to, and you're starting to think they _can't_ want to anyway.

It's still gross and it's still unfair and they're still an _asshole_ for doing it to you, but you see that flicker and you get so angry and then you think _'but what would HE do if he was here and he saw you being mad about a little kid getting to be happy for once,'_ and you imagine the disappointment in his big bright doofus eyes, imagine how he'd be _hurt_ to see it... and it's harder to. To want to _get back at them_ somehow.

You could lie to them, mislead them, make them afraid of her, talk them into leaving. It wouldn't even be hard. Hell, it'd be _effortless._ But you _know_ what _he'd_ think, and ever since he died, you're _painfully_ aware of how much ' _what would Asriel think'_ really matters to you.

How long are you gonna stand there and frickin' stare at this shit?

(...)

Heave a big, dramatic sigh. Now that they're done crying like a stupid baby about _having a room –_ it's not even a big deal, it's _not_ and it _shouldn't be_ and you're _so angry that it IS_ , that you _get it._ For fuck's _sake._ Being alive was so _crappy_ and being dead _sucks_. You think of _them_ getting to lie down there and be all _cozy_ and _comfy_ while you probably hover around all damn night because you bet ghosts can't sleep, and you almost change your mind and start lying about Toriel after all.

(i can't go in here yet.)

Why not? I don't see anybody blocking the damn door.

(because it's just... it's so _clean._ )

Sounds like the _opposite_ of a reason not to go somewhere.

(no, it's _clean_ and _nice_ and i'm covered in dirt and i'm all beat up and i've got blood on me and...)

Okay, wow, alright then, clean freak. Go take a fucking shower if it bothers you so much.

(am i... allowed to – no i have to – i need to _ask_ , right?)

Jesus Christ, this kid is gonna give you a ghost hernia. This is _some_ kind of progress, though, or something? You're not even sure what you're trying to progress them _towards_ , if you're being honest with yourself, but it feels like you're doing _something_ right.

Yeah, you do. It's not against the law to ask people shit, Frisk.

(... hey, chara?)

_ What? _

(it feels like you say my name a lot, in sentences. even when you don't need to.)

Excuse you? What's _that_ supposed to mean? And you keep saying _my_ name, jackass, so you don't get to judge my speech patterns.

(hehe, okay, that's fair. never mind.)

They do it. You don't even have to get pushy with them – okay maybe you do have to a little bit, right at the end, but it's _easier_ – and there they are, asking a question as if they're some kind of _sane being._ It's not wrong to be nervous about it; being wary of people is the number one rule of survival. But the kid has to learn that sometimes it's a risk worth taking.

"Oh, dear. Certainly, my child. I will show you the way."

Speaking of names, you ever gonna bother telling her _yours?_ It's just been _'my child'_ this and _'my child'_ that. I mean, she does that anyway, but it doesn't have to be every friggin' sentence.

(i don't think i want to.)

Why?

(hard to explain. i sort of... no, it's dumb, it's nothing. i shouldn't.)

It's super obviously not nothing, idiot, so either tell me the truth or make up your mind not to and then shut up about it.

(... okay. i just...)

_ Yes, Frisk? _

(you're the first person i've...)

_ Uh-huuuuuh? _

(... ever said it to.)

Wait, what? Are you fucking serious?

(well, yes. they called me things back at the, on the surface. but they didn't ever call me my name. and no one ever learned how to read my language.)

They just – didn't even let you...

(i had something they all used once in a while, but it didn't feel like it was _mine._ i don't ask for very much. it's not right to... to ask for much, not... for me. but i just wanted that. and. well. okay, it wasn't _just_ that, but it's... i don't know.)

... Oh. Right. You _should_ ask for more, dork. You should _want_ more. If you want something then you either build it yourself or you just _take_ it.

(i _did._ i came up with it. it's _mine._ it's nobody else's.)

Good. I _knew_ you had at least _one_ vertebra in your body.

(um, i don't really know what that means, but you really are the only one who knows my name.)

Yeah, see, that's why telling people is a _useful_ _idea_ –

(and i kind of... _like_ it this way.)

You... _what?_

(i _like_ it this way. it's okay if you're the only one who knows. because you're _chara_ and, and this is _special_ , and i want it to... i want it to stay like that. at least for now.)

... Holy _shit._ This is _epic._ Are they _serious?_ Yeah, that's a serious face right there. _Holy shit._ This is _so fucking awesome._ Forget being _jealous_. Like, you still _are,_ but it suddenly feels a lot less important. What's the point of being jealous of something you _own?_

(are you okay? your face is all red.)

I'm fine! Just surprised. It... makes sense, though. I like it that way too.

They beam at you, maybe the most earnest look you've seen on them so far, this painfully _pure_ happiness, and you turn your eyes away to make sure you don't go blind.

 

* * *

 

Toriel doesn't actually _have_ a shower, at least not in her house. She's a fuckin' _goat,_ all that stuff happens where her fur _can't_ drip ten thousand gallons of water on the floor. The only problem with that is that the little stream Toriel uses is... well, somebody _without_ fur might feel kinda awkward about the closest thing to a _'curtain'_ being the ability to position a body at an angle where rocks block the view unless someone rounds a corner.

"Now, my child, if you need anything at all, do not hesitate to call me."

They sign god knows what and Toriel leaves some spare clothes that mostly fit. You're not sure _why_ she still has kids' clothes lying around... but hey, old habits die hard, and you guess it'd be way too considerate of life to let her Mom-ness just die along with her children.

... Christ. You _ruined_ her. _How long has it BEEN?_ You never thought you'd _wish you were alive_ for someone _else's_ sake instead of your own.

(... please don't look, okay?)

Jolted back to the here and now. Good. Anything. Anything else to think about.

Obviously? I'm not a _creep_. Why the hell would I _want_ to, anyway?

(well, you probably wouldn't... i just... trust you to _mean_ it, if you say it.)

Why _wouldn't_ you trust me to _ACTUALLY NEVER MIND._ Never fucking mind. I _promise_ I'm not gonna peek or do anything weird, okay?

(thank you.)

You hang out on the other side of the wall and kinda lean back on it, trying to look cool for the people watching you, which is nobody. Still, though... you're sort of learning how it works when a physical object pushes you away. Maybe you can get so good at it that you can _touch_ things again; you can partially _feel_ a lot of shit, so it's totally worth experimenting.

The time to just chill out isn't so bad, either. Plus, the sound of water trickling along into the kind of shallow-ish not-quite-pool over there is... nice. You really _like_ white noise, when it's safe to have it. Their little splashy sounds kinda mess it up, but they don't _ruin_ it. Yeah, float-standing here is alright, at least for a little while. Having a chance to let your mind wander is cool, too.

Sucks that it wanders _right_ into weird territory.

There's something that's been bothering you _all day._ It's _none_ of your fucking business and you shouldn't ask, but you're going to find out one way or another _eventually_ so if they're willing to talk then you're gonna rip off the band-aid right now so it disappoints you less _now_ than it will if you wait until _later_. You still shouldn't pry, but... you've never been great at _not prying_ when there's something you want to know.

Hey, Frisk. Can I ask you something?

(what? of course. if even _i'm_ allowed to ask people stuff, then of course _you_ are.)

That's not what I mean. It's just... it's personal, but it's been bugging me ever since I first saw you and I, I don't know.

liar. you know why. because you're still hoping for something. because there's no _right_ answer, but there's still a certain answer that you _want_ , even if you're _not_ gonna fuckin' get it.

(it's okay...? just ask me. i can... not answer if i don't want to. right?)

YES! YOU CAN _NOT ANSWER._ Okay, uh. Here goes nothin'.

At least ten seconds go by while you try to find a way to do this without being completely blunt. You fail. Alright, whatever. Being blunt is kind of your thing _anyway._ Welp, here goes nothing, or maybe a lot of things.

... what _gender_ are you?

The splashes stop, and all you can hear is the water as it moves on along the same path it must always take. They don't say anything, so you wait. They don't say anything. You _keep_ waiting. They're _still_ not saying anything. You are _literally_ human garbage. Granted, that's _humans_ for you, but... _aagh._ You've got to say _something_ , this silence is un-fucking-bearable.

Uh, I –

(do you want... um. do you want the truth? or what they said?)

Kinda want the truth, if you're gonna say anything at all!

(um. okay. i, i don't really think i, have one?)

... oh.

(it just seems like... it's not that i don't think i deserve it or anything. but people got confused and stuff, and nothing anyone said ever felt right? i know i'm weird, but... it's nice to have that _nothingness?_ that blank space that's just... _mine._ )

so then you just kind of... you'd rather nobody thought of it like that at all?

(yes, i guess that's it. i know it's stupid. and, i tried to t-talk to... well, it _annoys_ people. so... i just let them keep calling me a –)

STOP. Don't wanna hear it. Leave it there.

(... really?)

Yes, really. If _you_ didn't wanna hear it, I sure as hell don't want to either.

It's quiet again for a while, but you're pretty sure you can identify the sound of someone trying not to cry and not exactly pulling it off. For a second you think it's _you_ , but it's not. You actually _are_ pulling it off. _Somehow._

I'm not... the same? Not exactly. It just seems like I'm something nobody ever bothered making a word for, but I decided a long time ago that I just didn't give a shit. Maybe there isn't a good name for what I am. So what? Fuck _settling_ for something _else,_ that's how I look at it. I mean, I'm still _me_ , you know?

(thank you.)

Why're you always _thanking_ me for shit I don't even _do?_

(i meant... thank you for being you.)

This ghost thing is effed up. It's like, _simulating_ you being alive or _something_ , because you're feeling really light-headed and weird. No, it's not just light-headedness, it's also sort of... like a hand was crushing your heart, and you're only noticing it now that it's gone.

Whatever _that_ means.

Yeah, well. You're welcome.

You don't think anybody's ever... why would anyone even _say_ that? _'Thank you for being you?'_ It's just... _what?_ Even _Asriel_ didn't say _that._ He said, well, a lot of nice things, a whole lot, even if you'd usually shut him down as fast as possible. You think he said _basically_ the same sentiment, but in different _words,_ nowhere near as _directly_ , and...

This one isn't gonna fucking die. This one's yours and they're _staying_ yours, and you're _not_ going to let anything happen. You're not going to _kill_ somebody you like again.

And you _did_ kill him, didn't you? Might as well have been _your_ finger pulling the triggers, when it comes down to it. It was your idea. He fucked it all up, yeah, but maybe you could have been _stronger_. If you hadn't been so _scared_ you could've... augh, _anything!_ Overpowered him when he tried to stop you from cutting loose, or even... given in, let him run to regroup later or something.

But no, you panicked and you struggled and you screamed like a little toddler brat throwing a tantrum and Asriel stumbled home hemorrhaging dust – his dust, _your dust?_ you _wish_ you'd had dust and not _blood_ – just so he could _die_ right in front of his fucking _parents._

You're never going to kill anyone by accident again. If you kill somebody you're going to do it _right_. You'll never have a chance again, you blew it so hard it's honestly funny, but... you still feel _dangerous_ , somehow. It's probably just denial, wishful thinking, but your instincts say that someday, somehow, you _will_ be dangerous again. You hope you're right. You hope it's soon.

Something slips out, and you don't know why. Is it because of all the big questions? You're just shooting off random psychotic inquiries now, is _that_ it? Whatever the reason is, it still slips out.

... Frisk, have you ever killed someone?

_God_ you're such a _fucking_ idiot, _what the hell are you doing_ , why would you _ask_ that, what the hell kind of _question_ is that? And you already know the answer! This kid would probably rather die than _swat a goddamned mosquito._ You're just freaking them out even more.

No. You know what? _No!_ Screw that. Screw everything, you don't even _care!_ They can stew on that and make _assumptions_ all they want. You're supposed to be _friends_. So they don't _get_ to judge, even if they follow the trail to the obvious conclusion.

... You think the silence is even more deafening this time around. Shit. Maybe you really _did_ wreck something. Nice one, Chara, real nice, real _fuckin'_ smooth. They _must_ think this means you're a murderer – not that they're _wrong_ – but who the hell wants to be friends with a –

(yes.)

They're pretty much done after that, and eventually they come back around the rock formation. Looks like they washed their clothes in the stream, because they're wearing blue and _green_ stripes, and in different places. It's weird and it does _not_ suit them. You hope they change back tomorrow. They don't return your stare, though. They don't really seem like they're looking at anything at all.

It's no short walk back to Toriel's place, but you still manage to make it there without a single word.


	6. The Most Tsundere Of Plants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way overdue (thanks wrist problems. thanks so much). Hope the length makes up for that, some!

  _grass looks much greener, but it's green-painted cement_

_the mayor's machines are there cleaning the pavement_

_you can't make dirt clean, so we'll just lemon-scent it_

 

[modest mouse - medication](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h7YeR67-P7A)

 

* * *

 

You're so, so tired. You were tired when you _fell_ , and you don't think being knocked out counts as rest. It never really has before. And it's just been... well, you're pretty sure your whole world has never turned upside down _this_ _often_ in such a short time.

There are also things you... didn't really expect to think about, and things you _did._ You feel kind of dumb, looking back; why was it such a _huge deal?_ Who you are never mattered before, at least, not to anyone else. This was the first time you tried to be honest about it in years. You sort of hate how much you care, honestly; not about _Chara_ being so amazing, but that you were so _miserable_ until, somehow, they just _understood._

It's such a small thing, really, and you wouldn't have been _angry_ or anything. You barely know _how_ to be angry. A long, long time ago, _worlds_ ago, you think you might have been a lot more angry in general, a lot... _stronger_ , maybe that's the right word for it. Chara keeps trying to make you _better_ , but before you came _here..._

Trying to make _yourself_ better, acting like you _were_ a real person... What did that ever get you or anyone around you? What good did it do to get mad if someone called you mean names or punched you for being weird or choked you until you saw black stars just because they felt like it? None, and after _'The Incident'_ it got so _easy_ not to care anymore, to just let the anger fade into distant echoes along with...

... you suppose you're not actually sure. After so much time, are you even sure what else you let go of? Does _that_ matter? Does it even _matter_ if it matters?

How much did you let go of, and how much was just swept away without your noticing?

You wouldn't even be thinking about any of this if Chara hadn't asked you... _those_ things. When was the last time you had a reason to think about who you are at all? It must have been before _'_ _The Incident.'_

That little phrase _had_ made you angry, once, _so_ angry, although you feel like the Frisk who was mad about all of it could easily have been a completely different person, considering how far away they are now. It _did_ though. The way they just took – how they'd act like all of it boiled down to _two words_ – being _picked apart_ by people looking right beyond the obvious, digging for some special mysterious _truth –_ nothing is ever _fucking mysterious_ unless you don't _want_ to understand it and _nobody_ wanted to understand one single real goddamned _thing_ about _'The Incident'_ _–_

Chara doesn't say a word, keeps an eye on you but lets you stagger up against the outer wall of Toriel's house, searching for breath. Lets you retch and try to choke everything back down again, keep everything inside. If you wanted to say something you _could_ , and they know that too.

It feels kind of amazing, that someone would care enough to try to guess when _not_ to get involved – _trust_ that you'd tell them if you wanted it. You guess _you're_ putting a lot of trust into that assumption, but isn't that... what being a person, being a friend, all seems to build from? Making the choice to believe that someone _understands._ That the reason they're staying quiet isn't that it doesn't matter.

That's probably the only reason you're able to keep from throwing up all the way. You're glad. If you got vomit on clothes you borrowed from Toriel, you'd never be able to apologize enough, even if she somehow wasn't angry or _annoyed_. You don't think you could keep on trying not to hate yourself, if that happened.

... is _that_ what you've been doing? Trying not to hate yourself? You didn't think you _hated_ yourself, but was there even a _'yourself'_ to hate? What does it even _mean_ to hate yourself? If you've never hated someone before, then how can you actually know?

Have you hated someone else, before? You sort of... think that you want to _know._ Hating someone is like not liking them, but way more intense, isn't it? Was there anyone specific you disliked more than anyone else, if there was anyone to really dislike in the first place?

You feel like there _was_ , but if you think about it any harder right now, you really _will_ end up puking. Time to think about nothing, then, or at least _something else._ Think, think. What else happened?

Oh. The _other_ question. It's weird that they asked at all and it's even weirder that they didn't ask you to say anything more. Although, really, there wouldn't have been much to say. Yes, you killed someone. Did they deserve it? You have absolutely no idea. What do you feel about that? Not very much. Do you regret it?

No. You don't.

So it's easier that they didn't keep asking. All you could have done was waste their time.

Toriel is busy in the kitchen when you get back, and you don't want to bother her in there, whether she'd be annoyed or not. You don't... _like_ kitchens, very much. Cleaning the kitchen was always the one kind of work you really, _really_ wanted to avoid. This isn't the same kitchen so it shouldn't bother you, shouldn't make you almost think about the wrong things, but it _does_ bother you. Just looking in from the living room bothers you.

Hey. I need you do to me a favor.

(wait, what?)

They're staring at you with a _really_ weird expression. You're pretty sure you've never seen it on anyone before. It could mean anything.

It's not much. Just go in the bedroom while she's doing her thing. Not o – your room, the other one.

(isn't that her room, though? is that okay?)

Yes it is, and who cares? Anything's okay if no one but us knows about it. I don't even want you to _do_ anything specific, I just... I _need_ to look in there.

(... okay, but i'm a little confused. why do you need me there? you could just pass through the door.)

No shit, but I need you to...

(to... what?)

I don't know! Who cares? Maybe you can pick something up or poke it. I sure can't fuck around with anything!

(if you're sure, then i... maybe...)

Just come on already.

You do _not_ want to do this. Going in a grown-up's room is something that just _isn't done._ You'll get caught – but she – even if she doesn't want to punish you, wouldn't you _deserve_ it?

There's a weird lump in your throat, which is stupid, because you barely even _use_ it except to breathe, and once in a while to eat or drink. If you said _no_... would they really... _can_ you really refuse? You think you can. That they might not understand, maybe, but they're _Chara_ , so they'd still _listen._ You _have_ to trust them. No, you _want_ to trust them. There's a difference, right? It seems like there's more and more of a difference by the minute.

The reason you finally do open the door is your trust that they wouldn't try to _make_ you do it if you said no.

Chara makes a really weird sound. It's not a gasp, exactly, but it's sort of like that? You're not sure _what_ to call it. They're staring straight ahead and up, at... you think they're staring at one of the potted plants up on the bookshelf? It's not so strange, though, that she'd have a golden flower around; they're so pretty, and she passes by the place they grow all the time if she really does keep on checking for fallen humans.

... but why would anyone want to remember... after what _happened –_

They seem to catch themself saying something they don't want to, and very carefully look anywhere but up at that flower. You don't get it, but maybe that's okay. They can just tell you what it means, if they want to.

Soooo, what dorky bullshit do we have in _here..._

Chara explores the room, not that there's a whole lot to explore. You notice a book lying open on what must be Toriel's desk, and some old instinct has you reading the spread pages almost before you know what you're doing.

It's really cute, and it's pretty funny, too. Your friend doesn't notice you smiling, which is okay. They're busy trying to learn whatever it is they need; you have absolutely no idea _what_ that is, but they're staring at random things like every object has a secret meaning, and that can't be for no reason. You follow their eyes around the room and they don't notice until they turn around to inspect another potted plant you hadn't really noticed.

Ah, the cactus. Truly the most tsundere of plants.

(what does _'tsundere'_ mean?)

They make a fake glaring face and flip their hand through their hair with a little _'hmph!'_ noise. You have no idea what that means, but there's something really funny about it anyway, mostly how you can tell they're trying really hard not to laugh and almost failing.

I'll... explain some other time. I think...

Slowly, their expression slips back to normal, and then goes past normal and turns into a weird kind of thing that you think is a kind of sadness you haven't seen before. You wonder what _that_ means.

Let's get the fuck out of here before she's done with whatever. Saw everything I wanted to.

(okay.)

Somehow, Toriel honestly doesn't know what you did. Grown-ups _always_ know, they can always just _tell_ if you've done something wrong, but she can't. If she can, then she's hiding it. You _really_ wonder what that would mean, if it's accurate.

You want to talk to her. To use your hands more and _still have it mean something to someone who isn't you_. There are still things you want to _ask_ , things you think you _can_ ask, and also... it's just... she's a contradiction of a person. Nice grown-ups _aren't real._

It must be because she's a monster. Nothing _else_ would make sense. She isn't human at all, so she can probably be _all kinds of things_ that no one on the surface ever could.

Happy isn't _exactly_ what you are, it's so much more complicated than that... But you _are_ happy, too, and it makes you even more happy knowing you can be happy when there's a grown-up in the room.

She ends up suggesting you rest for a while. Your eyes are hot and tired and your head hurts. You're clean, now, and you step into the room – _your_ room your room _your room_ – and the only thing you can think about is how that bed is _allowed_. What it'll feel like to actually sleep in a _real bed_. It's been so long. So, _so_ long.

The bed is made up perfectly. You memorize exactly how it looks so that you can put it back together the same way later. The sheets are soft. The blankets are warm, not even scratchy. It smells like _safe_ , like arms that don't want to hurt you, like things you can't remember if you remember or not. You hadn't realized you were expecting something else – _sterile_ and not _clean_ , _assigned_ and not _safe_ – but you _were_ expecting that, somehow, and... being wrong about _that..._

Being wrong about _that_ is enough to make you cry all over again. Chara mutters something like _'always stuck with the crybabies'_ , and when you notice the weird little smile pulling up one corner of their lips, they roll their eyes and hover down closer to the floor.

(it doesn't feel real, but it _is_ real.)

Yeah, it is, jackass. Lay the fuck down already or do something else, don't just _stand there._

So you do.

 

* * *

 

You think you've _finally_ figured out how to, like, simulate the feeling of gravity connecting you to something. It's not perfect, that's for damn sure, but there's a certain... _way of thinking_ that you're getting better at keeping up without having to concentrate. Being able to sort of feel real enough to have gravity is really... it's just _right,_ even if you can't _really_ make it right.

At least you're getting a whole lot of practice _now_ , since you've got fuck-all to do but think and you might as well do it properly, lying on the floor of your... no, it's not really _your_ room. It hasn't been your room for a long time, and that was true even _before_ you died. Things aren't the same, either, although it's not _too_ far off. So it's _not_ yours.

But there's something just a little painful about being here, and that helps keep you calm. You have a bad feeling it won't _last,_ but, shit. Might as well take advantage of it, right?

Plus the damn kid looked at you with the _worst_ eyes when you tried to leave. It wasn't their _asking you to stay_ that swayed you, it was that fucking _look._ Asriel could pull that one off once in a while, too, and after you started losing to it a few months after you fell, you never really figured out how to fight back again.

You stare at the ceiling to and, well, _think_ _._ What _should_ you decide to waste time on, though? There's nowhere near enough info to even _bother_ thinking about those creepy-ass buttons yet, you _really_ don't feel like reliving the ends of your life _yet again,_ definitely don't want to get caught up wondering things about Toriel and, well, all of _that._ You're really more of an _'in the moment'_ kind of person at heart, and when you literally can't affect _anything..._

A small gasp distracts you. Not necessarily an _'oh shit'_ kind of gasp, which is... _something_ at least.

(oh wow, i just remembered – well. that _might_ be bad.)

Okay, _this_ is something you can spend your energy thinking about! ... And it's probably going to end in more shit you did _not_ want to know. Oh well. Probably important to get to know _the one person who knows you're_ _around_ _,_ even if you resent feeling like you're glued to the kid by necessity.

You're not sure why you always think of them as a _'kid'._ They're probably your age, a _little_ younger at most. It's just... they just come across as so much more _naive._ Like they haven't figured out _why_ humans were so horrible, yet. Like they never _woke the fuck up_ to the world around them.

... okay, you guess that's the reason. _'Mystery'_ solved.

_What?_ Don't get cryptic on me. My tolerance is shot for at least the next seven years.

(i was just thinking about time, and i realized that... it's been at least ten hours since i woke up. and i don't actually know how long i was unconscious before waking up.)

I _just freaking said not to –_

(no, no, i'm not being cryptic. i'm kind of thinking out... hmm. not out loud, exactly. you know what i mean. it's just that i definitely should be taking my pills right now, or maybe even a while ago, but i haven't, and i can't.)

Oh. Huh. That could maybe be bad, I think? Or not? What _kind_ of pills?

As weird as Frisk is, for some reason you didn't think they were the type to, like, _be on shit_. They just seem completely _naturally_ insane. You'd bet a lot that they didn't exactly have the _sweetest_ and _most loving_ home back in the asscrack of the universe, so who would have given enough of a shit?

(just... _my pills._ )

That was super useless. Try again.

(i sort of don't know what kind, and i sort of do?)

Closer, but not quite gettin' there. I haven't got all night. Things to do, people to meet.

... Okay, that was a lame-ass depressing joke even by _your_ standards.

(i think they're supposed to keep me more... more solid. more... maybe it was stable? but i don't think i understand what that really means. in detail.)

Great. Well, I'm guessing you don't have any on you, and even if you do, you can't get _more._ Hope you don't get withdrawals and die or something, god only knows what some of that shit'll do to you.

(you're not being very reassuring right now.)

... Do I _have_ to be? That's a new one from you.

(sorry, i was trying to... be funny, i guess.)

I'm astonished you even know what humor is. So... do you actually _care?_

(about my pills? i... kind of care, and i also don't care.)

I fucking hate how many paradoxes you fit into your sentences.

(it's just that they're basically supposed to keep me _myself._ so it's kind of scary? but at the same time... i don't know how to judge if that's true. whatever that means.)

You're really not sure what to say to that. They kind of sigh. Somehow this is the most mellow you think they've been since you met them, even if they're worn out. That could mean a _lot_ of different things and you're not up for decoding their shit right now. Just... gonna let them ramble.

(what i'm trying to say is that i can't remember exactly how i felt _before_ i had to take them. i think it's been two years, so i can't actually know if i'm _'myself'_ when i've been taking them unless i _stop_ taking them for long enough. i guess now i'll be finding out.)

Do you _want_ to find out? You said it was scary.

(it _is_ scary! but something's telling me it's worth knowing no matter what.)

What, this _'advice'_ shit you kept talking about earlier? 'Cause now that you mention it, I'd also _really_ like to know what in the _fuck_ is going on _there._

(no, it's not advice. it's just... _something._ maybe i'm trying to find something that isn't there anymore.)

Alright, rad, whatever. Don't care, then. You just brought up the elephant in the room and saved me some frickin' time, so how about you keep at it and tell me what the hell you mean when you talk about _'advice.'_

(there's a... voice. but it's not a voice. it's just things that i suddenly  _know_ , kind of in words. in my head but also just _everywhere_. and it seems like the voice wants to help me. a bunch of really important things happened because i listened to it. but it's not perfect either, and i can ignore it if i want.)

... Do you seriously not find that totally existentially upsetting? Because that's super fucking eerie, but you talk about it like it's the most normal thing in the world.

(well, it kind of is, even if i know it's not. i'm used to it, though. it's almost always been this way. but... today it was different. ever since i j – _fell_ it's been all _weird._ different.)

Different _how?_ You're hallucinating some _new_ ethereal spirit guide or whatever?

(maybe. like it's speaking another language, but i didn't notice for a while because i only _feel_ what it says? it's pushier, too, and i don't like that. i'm getting scared that i might not always be able refuse to listen after all?)

Oh good. _Excellent._ Like we didn't have _enough_ problems.

(i sort of... _opened up_ to a weird... _advice feeling_ after that horrible flower had been trying to hurt me again.)

Glad you're finding new ways to explain things that still fail at making sense, as usual.

(it felt like... like a _'nothing'_ was kind of over my shoulder, right there with me, and i just... _knew_ how to get away from the pellets – well, bullets, i think? i knew how perfectly that i didn't have to think about what to do. it was almost... automatic.)

I feel like you just talked for longer than all the rest of the time I've known you combined. Holy shit. Presenting the amazing Frisk, ladies and gentlemen and whatevers. Totally willing to talk your brain's ear off, as long as everything they have to say is _completely fucking terrifying._

... _holy shit,_ though, for _real._ You... what do you even make of _that?_ The obvious answer is that they're crazy, because they _are_ crazy no matter how you spin it, but the way they _moved._ That's got you feeling shaky about the _'obvious'_ answer. Maybe this _isn't_ part of the crazy? And, like, honestly, you're a _ghost._ Who knows what _other_ bullshit could be going on here?

You're not sure if you _want_ it to be another layer of crazy or not. Both possibilities still suck.

(is it weird if... i'm kind of more _sad_ that the voice isn't the same, than i am scared? i feel a little like someone i used to know is just... _gone._ not someone i really knew well, but... i don't know, it's just weird. and... i guess i don't know whether that means some _person_ somewhere changed or left or died, or if advice is something you can't compare to that, but i feel... lonely.)

No, that... that's still incredibly creepy, but it makes sense in a whackjob kinda way. _Maybe._ Look, Frisk, being lonely is _stupid._ If you're alone then there's no one to fuck around with you so who cares, and if you're _not_ alone then how can you have any time to _waste_ on being lonely? It's either dangerous or... well, it's always dangerous, but I _guess_ certain _super rare_ people are... well, not _fun,_ but at least _less_ terrible. So _fuck_ being lonely. It's not like it even _means_ anything.

(but i've _only_ ever felt lonely when people were around. and now it's different.)

They roll over slowly. You're not really looking that way, but that's what rolling over _sounds_ like, so it strikes you as a safe bet. You wonder if they turned toward you or away from you, and which one you'd rather it be.

( _you're_ here, and you don't make me feel lonely. it's really... cool. it's new.)

I'm fuckin' terrible company, Frisk. Don't bullshit people. Well, _do_ bullshit people, just not _me._

(i'm not. you're the best company.)

Their splintery-hearted attachment to you is ridiculous enough that you actually end up blushing on their behalf. Second-hand embarrassment's a real bitch.

... hey. Are you... this is stupid – blah, whatever. Is it... comfortable? Up there?

Nothing. You've got your eyes closed, but you can hear them breathing all _even._ Too even for them at their best, by far. Man. They went out so damn fast somebody might as well have just snapped their fingers and knocked them out with magic. You figure if they _finally_ managed to relax for even _half a second,_ it's not exactly a _shock_ that they just crashed. It's... hard to hold that against them, but you _really want to;_ you're a fucking _ghost,_ so what are _you_ supposed to do all night? Since when can ghosts _sleep?_ You're _so done_ hoping for any death-related convenience. Disappointment is boring.

You haven't got much to think about, so you just think in circles and try to understand the parts of today and the last un-eternity that _don't_ make you feel like throwing up. It's amazing how long you can amuse yourself by torturing yourself, except that now you won't even get the couple of hours of sleep you were lucky to pull when you were alive, so there's _nothing_ to look forward to.

Asriel always fell asleep fast, too. He'd all but flop over in the middle of movies if it was late, it was _terrible._ But he doesn't fall asleep fast anymore, for some reason. Not lately, not since you started... _planning_ things. That makes you a little uneasy, but you ought to just be happy he has to get a taste of what it's like.

 _He_ looks anything but happy, though. You're not sure how you can _see_ him when you _are_ him, sort of. Maybe there's... a mirror? Your soul must be awesome, because he – _you –_ you _both –_ look like a _total badass._ 'Course, half of that badass is a _wuss_ , so... shrug?

"Why did you struggle so hard? Do you hate them? Do you really hate them _that much?_ "

You hate how he sounds like he honestly doesn't _understand._ He probably _doesn't._ If he'd just – just _listen_ for half a second –

"I... it's not _just_ about _hating assholes_ , I was afraid they were going to _hurt you!_ And they almost _did!_ Even _this_ epic body can't take that many bullets. We barely even _got away."_

"What do you mean, Chara?"

"... huh?"

"We _didn't_ get away. _I_ didn't get away. Remember? You couldn't make up your mind soon enough. You weren't ready enough even when you were _furious."_

Smoke is scratching away at your nose and throat. You cough a little and blood speckles your palm. It sure would've been great if you'd known what a _fucking awful way to die_ those flowers are when they interact with _human_ biology. You can _deal,_ but also, it's the actual worst thing you've ever felt. It doesn't exactly hurt right _now,_ though. But something else... does?

"You _killed_ us. Why would you do that, Chara? You said you were my _best friend._ You were the only person who ever really understood me, even if you're weird. But you killed me anyway."

You cough harder and a little puff of dust passes over your hand, gels with the red flecks that were already there. It hurts a lot. It's hurting worse. It's loud like the 4th of July gone wrong and the night is flashing and flaring and you cough up more dust, no blood now, you're weirdly happy about that, but it hurts so fucking much, and you just...

"I didn't... I... I'm _s-sorry!_ I fucked it up! You're _right,_ okay?!"

He's limping you away, but even if the impacts stop, the pain doesn't. The holes don't disappear. Dust keeps on drifting free. It hurts so, _so much –_

 _"You're right,_ so what do I do now?! I'm a failure and I couldn't even overpower a _wimp_ like _you_ so I could _kill the disgusting fucking human trash_ that was _shooting us to death_ and I didn't think clearly enough to let you run and talk it out I know it I know already _I fucking know!_ So _what am I supposed to do?!"_

"Hurt. _Never stop hurting_. I don't even like seeing you smile anymore. Just _hurt_ the way you made _me_ hurt. You taught me something special, Chara. How to really, truly hate someone. So I guess you finally got me to grow up like you said you wanted, because I _hate you_ , and I'll hate you _forever_ , you _fucking filthy little ANIMAL –"_

(--ara! chara? hey, can you hear me?! hey!)

You're back. Maybe. Did you... leave? Where are you back from? The meaningless dimness of the light bugs you. You're not sure why.

Ugh. The fuck's going on? Did I miss something?

(you're not... totally making sense. better, though, i think? can you really hear me? i think i was asleep and then you just started _screaming_ and i don't even know why a ghost would scream but, you sounded so awful and scared? so i – i tried to, to say something? sorry?)

... and... then you remember. Well, half-remember, and it's blurry at best, which is actually a freakin' good thing, and that has to mean –

Holy shit, was I having a _nightmare?_

Their eyes don't glint in the dark, looking down from the side of the bed, and it bothers you. Eyes should _always_ glint in the dark. More importantly, you... _fell asleep?_ Oh my god.

I think I _fell asleep._ No, I must have! I totally did. I actually _do_ get to sleep? Did I fall asleep because you did? No, no way, I was wasting time thinking about dumb shit for like _two hours_ after that. Then I can just... _fake lying down long enough_ and i _fall asleep?_ Is that it? Fuck, this is _amazing._

(i'm, um, happy that you're happy! i think? d-does... should _i_ go to sleep again, then?)

Seeing as it's still god knows what o'clock, yeah, no shit you should.

(... i don't know if i can. you kind of scared me really bad. and i'm kind of still scared. a lot.)

Are you kidding me. So what am _I_ supposed to do?

Some little razor in your heart twitches when you say those words. You grit your teeth.

(nothing. you can do anything. i...)

A silence.

Yeah? You what?

(i... c-can i be... can i just be horrible, for a little while?)

Uhhhh. No idea what that means, but sure, why the fuck not. Being horrible is like, the most basic human thing to do, anyway.

(then... i'm going to ask you something.)

Don't _tell_ me, _ask_ it already. I'm... not _tired,_ but I think maybe I actually am? Somehow?

(maybe you're less dead than you thought? but. will you. um. will you... lay here? next to me?)

What the _fuck._

It's dark. You have ' _rosy_ _'_ cheeks anyway. They can't see. It's their fault anyway! What kind of request _is_ that? No you aren't gonna... just... _what?_

(i mean. float or. sorry. i just kind of... want to. be horrible. for a while. you don't have to. i can try to be good.)

... Quit grossing me out. Screw being good. Being _good_ just gets you hurt anyway.

You sit up, without really meaning to. Are you honestly even _considering..._

I can't even touch you, so you don't get to use me like a freaky undead teddy bear. Not that I'd _let_ you even if you _could_ , you little creep.

(well. isn't that good? because you wouldn't want to do something that's weird like that? if you could... um...)

Why are you enough of a sucker to even _think about_ _this_ _._ Your life is so stupid. They're so damn stupid, _y_ _ou're_ so damn stupid. They have to make everything so _complicated_ and _awkward._

Ah, fuck it. Since when's anything been simple or _not-awkward_ in your life, anyway?

Alright, you're not even forming coherent sentences anymore. You'd still pass out without _my_ goddamn help, Frisk.

(... maybe. thank you anyway.)

Fucking... move over, jeez. Just because you can't touch me doesn't mean it isn't creepy to just flop an arm through my sternum. I can _sort of_ feel that, kind of.

(sorry... it's really nice... being able to just... stretch... out...)

Welp, they lasted all of a minute. If you don't get, like, enough good karma from this to cheat your way back to life, you are _so done._

Somehow it _does_ feel... different, fake-lying here instead of on the floor, though, and that's kind of a silver lining. If you even _need_ those to get by... okay fine you really, really do. Whatever. The point is that it's apparently easier to fake gravity with matter that _resists_ less. So it turns out even ghosts like to have beds.

The more you know, right?


	7. Stay Determined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for this taking so damn long, and then being short. Life has been Life-Style Complicated. The next chapter's intended to be another big one and should resolve the Ruins arc.
> 
> Warnings for... Jesus, where do I even start? Flashbacks, various kinds of freak-outs, medication withdrawals, existential foreboding, characters justifiably implying they want to murder the author (or "god," w/e), etc

_i'm standing at the edge of a valley and it's cold_

_the villagers they hate me, but i know you are alone_

_so stick it in my heart and let me keep it safe and low_

 

[frog eyes – a needle in the sun](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7OvzNUgbJc)

 

* * *

 

Somehow, you thought you'd be having more nightmares before sunrise, but... no, guess not. You wouldn't say you're _groggy?_ Being a ghost is goddamned _weird._ Disoriented a little bit, sure, but alert enough to notice the kid must already be up, since the bed's lacking its _actual_ occupant. Actually, the bed's kind of a mess, blanket half off the side, sheets twisted up in weird places. Didn't Frisk have some sort of issue with keeping shit organized or clean or something? You're kind of surprised the thing isn't already _made,_ probably so well nobody would ever believe it had even been _slept in._

... what is that _noise?_ You'd almost describe it as _'crying'_ but that doesn't cover it, not really. Okay, that's weird. So where _is_ Frisk, anyw –

Shit.

Frisk is huddled up in the corner of the room, twitching, staring blankly at nothing, tears streaming down their face, breathing way, way too fast. God _damn_ it, you _just woke up_ , what the hell happened _this time?_ The door's shut, so _Toriel_ doesn't know about this; she'd be doing something otherwise.

Hey. What's your damage _now?_ Like, seriously, how did you even _function_ without me around in the _first_... place...

Now that you're closer you can see they're pretty much _soaked_ with sweat. _That..._ hasn't happened before, and you have like _five_ _examples_ of Frisk totally freaking out to compare. You wave a hand in front of their face, which hasn't exactly _helped_ anything before, but at least they seemed to _notice_ it on some weird level, or even just freak out _worse._ Right now you might as well not be here at all.

You almost freak out. What if the weird connection between the two of you just... _vanished_ overnight? What if _nobody_ can see you or hear you anymore? No no _no no_ it's gotta be something else they're just losing their shit after waking up somewhere weird right? _Right?_ That's gotta be it. You're still _real_ or _half-real_ or _whatever_ the fuck but you're still _here_ okay whatever this is it's got nothing to do with you right _right right_ _RIGHT_ _?!_

Then you finally notice the trickle of... ugh, _bile_ , half-dried on their skin, and the pieces all click. Hadn't you _seen_ this coming? Shit, you even _said_ so.

No, _you_ didn't have any _real_ nightmares last night. The one who's stuck in a nightmare is _Frisk._ Ten hours since they'd woken up, _no clue_ how long they'd been out... and they didn't exactly mention how long it had been since they started the same slow, grueling trek out of town and up the mountain that you remember from so long ago.

So as of this morning, what you're _really_ looking at is somebody whose meds are _at least_ twenty four hours late, probably more like _thirty-_ _something._

You've already made it out into the hall before you realize the _other_ key fact and start laughing.

Even if Toriel's home, _you_ can't do _jack fucking shit_ to let her know what's up – that _anything's_ up, let alone what it _actually is_ , and this is something totally foreign to monsters _anyway._ Holy shit. That is some genuinely side-splitting stupidity right there. That's goddamned _gold._ You thought you could _help_? _You?_ Like hell. You don't even get to tell anyone somebody _needs_ help. Of _course_ the one time you actually give a shit, the option to help has _ceased to exist._

You could almost get lost cracking up out here for _minutes_ , but you can hear retching through the door now and you guess the least you can do is be in the fucking room.

If there's a God who set all this up the way _some_ people believe, you bet the piece of shit's laughing right along with you. What a _comedian,_ right? _This_ is how you get through to a modern audience: no holds barred, and who cares if someone gets hurt in the process? Talk about edgy. Talk about twisted. Talk about _brutal._

Yeah, if there's a God orchestrating your life, you hope someday you get to _find_ the motherfucker, shove your knife _right_ into some divine guts, and _twist._

 

* * *

 

Toriel finds them in something like half an hour. It could have been worse. You keep telling yourself that. It _could_ have been. Somehow.

She does... _pretty_ well, for someone who has _no idea_ how to deal with this and whose other main experience with a sick human did _not_ end happily. Frisk is sort of more alert after she tries to help clean off some of the gross shit, although every so often she'll say something after a long silence, or even just touch them, and they'll _flip out_ for a few seconds before vaguely calming down; it seems like they can't or won't sign very much, and when they do their hands shake so badly that you bet it's hard to understand them.

You tell them random stuff, try to... _ugh,_ you don't even know. Make it less hideous somehow, maybe, even though that's basically impossible. This is not your department even a _little_ bit. You're not the person who sits around babying somebody and whispering comforting shit, _especially_ not when it's something this _legit._ They'll... _probably_ be okay? In... a week or three?

Withdrawals aren't something you know _much_ about, but going cold turkey on _anything_ is a bad idea, and whatever they were on, they _really_ needed to not deep-freeze it like this.

Sometimes they'll stare at you, way too dead inside and way too agonizingly _alive_ all at the same time, but they don't say anything to you at all, the first day. Not a word. Maybe they can't focus enough? It seems easy to just _think at_ somebody, but who knows, right?

Toriel notices the way they stare over her shoulder and at seemingly empty corners of the room. It only worries her more.

The second day's even worse, if only because it's not any _better._ You _do_ get a few words out of them but none of it really makes _sense_ , just fragments of sentences, random apologies for nothing. This is stupid and it sucks and it's also _really fucking boring._

That boredom factor multiplies when you discover something really important and _really frustrating:_ there is in fact _a limit to how far away from Frisk you can get._ You can't nail it down the way you want to, find the precise distance, but you _think_ it's something like twelve or fifteen hundred feet. Again, it could be _worse_ , but holy crap you're literally on an _invisible leash._

You'll try _really hard_ not to hold that against Frisk. _None_ of this was on purpose. None of it's fair. It's not their fault your afterlife turned you into their pet ghost. So never let it be said you're anything but magnanimous.

You can yell about it later, when they're _not_ in a spot that's so shitty even _you'd_ feel bad for making it tougher on them.

The third day _might_ be better. Honestly, it's kinda hard to tell; this is a carousel of freakin' symptoms, and just because something _stopped_ doesn't mean it won't start again the second you look away. Toriel is trying to stay positive, but... sometimes she just has this _look..._

Right now she's clasped her hands like she's praying for something, as if monsters pray _to_ anything, staring down at the bed.

"Please, my child..." she says like she's choking on something sharp, "... you have to stay determined...", and you leave the room wondering whether ghosts can throw up.

It sure is great knowing you gave Asriel's mom PTSD.

You learn a lot about this house, though. More than you ever _wanted_ to know. There's a weirdly consistent skeleton theme to the terrible jokes Toriel keeps scribbling down when she has the time, _something_ she's inexplicably clinging to, and you kind of wonder what _that's_ about. Maybe she has a crush on a skeleton or something.

Okay, no, that's dumb, but still.

The thing that actually freaks you out most is, well... _What the fuck is up with all the_ _children_ _'s_ _clothes everywhere?_ Did she slowly morph into a serial killer while you were gone? That doesn't really add up, though, even if you thought she was capable of it, which she's isn't. Right?

In the middle of the third night, you have trouble ghost-sleeping. It's not because you're still having more _nightmares_ , those are whatever, it's just... this is a _really_ fucking strange post-death experience? You're also so goddamned _restless_. Whatever you're going to actually do with your ghost-life, you want to get _on_ with it already. Christ.

The dim light in the room feels slightly _red_ , like it's coming from a half-dead bulb someone covered with watered down blood. Maybe they _aren't_ pulling through and you can just mystically _tell_ because you're in touch with death or some shit.

You _'roll'_ over on/near the floor to see if they're dead and somehow keep yourself from flinching when their eyes lock right onto yours. They're just... _staring._ It feels WEird. It feels _bad_ , mAYbe eveN _da_ _NG_ _er_ _O_ _us_ , however little seNse that makes, not in A _skee_ _Z_ _y_ way but... There's just soMEThing _fa_ _MILIA_ _r_ aboUt someThing, and NoT being ABLe To instantLY figure OUt whAt it IS iS an _ISSUE_ _._

**:{:{ DETERMINATION }:}:**

A sOliD teN seCOnds paSs bEfore you can Snap oUt of the daZe you're in. For all that you can't fEel things properly, right now it's like the teMperature dropped twenty degrees. You can barely remember what you were thInkinG about. It might not even have made any fucking _se_ _N_ _se._

You're _sure_ that word just came from them, but it's not _their_ voice. It's not _any_ kind of voice. It was more like a concept filtered through something you can't identify filtered through an emptiness scrawled in another language all over the underside of your brain, and you have _no idea_ why you even know what it meant.

This is fucked up, especially the part where _you understood it_. At least, you think you did. You wish knowing what it meant actually _explained_ anything or made any kind of difference, but it doesn't. When you can bring yourself to look over again, Frisk is asleep.

It's not all that bad, since you don't really seem capable of being _properly_ tired, but you still can't trick yourself into sleep for three more hours.

The voice that shakes you back into consciousness _is_ Frisk's, this time.

(no.)

... huh?

What? No to what? You _just_ woke up and you haven't said or done _anything._

(no. you can say it as many times as you want and it still won't be true.)

Uh. Say _what_ now?

(you see me like i'm an insect. a cute bug full of deadly poison. you don't even know my name.)

You're... not trying to talk to _me,_ are you.

(you can't read my language. i can't write yours without a pencil. a pen. almost anything. but you won't give me those, will you, not when you're alone with me. you have my entire life in the palm of your hand and you're still afraid of me.)

Time to shut up. This just got _interesting._

(if you actually wanted to know the truth, all you'd have to do is find me a marker... but you won't. you never do.)

A few beats. You can't strain your mind to hear better, but you would if you could. Oh holy shit would you _ever._

(i really fucked up, didn't i. really, _really_ fucked up.)

Whoa, have they literally _ever_ cursed around you before? You're pretty sure the answer is no.

(all of this now, everything else... it wouldn't have changed how this is happening... but i do regret it.)

You can hear rustling outside the door. Shit shit shit _shit,_ no, Toriel, really, give the kid maybe five more minutes, don't interrupt this _now_ , come on, come on...

(i do regret that he survived.)

 

* * *

 

Tonight, something else worth paying attention to happens: the faint red light you thought you'd been imagining is a little bit brighter, and it's brighter the closer it is to Frisk. That... huh. At this point there's honestly nothing that _can_ scare you anymore, you think, so you just kind of _wait._

They're a lot more lucid on day number five, for whatever that's worth. You manage to get them to whine semi-coherently at you. None of it's actually helpful. You really wish they'd shut up until they can hold an actual conversation, but you don't have the heart to tell them. Toriel can apparently read a few of their signs again, and at least that makes _her_ feel a little better.

She flits through the house constantly, fussing over Frisk when there's a chance and fussing over absolutely nothing all the rest of the time. She keeps writing disastrous puns in her little book, inspects her cactus carefully to make sure it's healthy, rereads her same books about snails – what is it with her and goddamned _snails?_

The light is brighter again tonight. You want a closer look. Where exactly is it _coming_ from?

You don't find out, but you do realize that when you get close the shine gets _brighter._ You play around with that for a while before deciding to just sit on their bed all night to see what happens. Maybe they leech life out of people who are already dead. Maybe you're killing them faster by mere proximity. It's hard to say. You just want to know what's gonna _happen_ , already.

The next day, they don't wake up.

Maybe you didn't want to know after all.

 

* * *

 

It's a long day and there's _nothing_ worth remembering about it. They just lie there, shaking like they're freezing their ass off, eyes shut tight, and sometimes they whimper in their sleep. There's a dull, heavy feeling in your gut, that good old _'knew it was too good to be true'_ feeling that's had a stranglehold on pretty much your entire life.

Toriel, the few times she leaves Frisk's bedside, cries in her room. You wish you couldn't hear her through the wall but you _can_ and you'd have to leave _too_ if you wanted to get away from it. That's _not_ happening. One way or another you're seeing this through to the _very end._

You're not sure that Toriel notices when the glow starts up again in the evening; it's a super slow process and you only catch it as soon as you do because you're _expecting_ it. Not long after that, she nearly falls asleep reading in the chair she's brought in and relocates to cry herself asleep in her _own_ room, so _you're_ the one who watches the red getting brighter and brighter, the brightest it's been by _far._ When you're close enough it's like an L.E.D. in the middle of their chest.

It's embarrassing how long it takes you to realize that the glow is coming from the barely visible outline of a large red heart. Well, son of a _bitch._

So you've been watching their soul slowly bleed out? That's... just _great._ You just keep sitting there, though, because what the fuck _else_ are you gonna do with your time? Toriel is gonna be _wrecked_ by what she'll wake up to.

You shrug and sigh and when you look back down at Frisk, their eyes snap _wide open._

(i'm tired.)

That was more directed at _everything_ than it was at _you,_ you think.

If that means you're about to die then at least _get it over wi –_

(i'm tired of not being able to _wake up_.)

 

All the sound and color in the room fades away

the whole universe shaking like an earthquake

shaking _harder and harder_ leaving you numb in the _teeth_

but Toriel doesn't wake up and rush in

probably doesn't even notice

nothing is falling off shelves or swinging around

you can't even hear yourself think

out of nowhere, just like that

in a shuddering and washed-out world

everything is devoured by the sound of a crimson pulse.

 

* * *

 

  _"terribly sorry to hear... some rare cases, this sort of... often a reflection of the things around... such a shame..."_

:{:{ CARRY THESE SYMBOLS }:}:

_"... a troubled child since birth, there's no denying that..."_

:{:{ NEVER FORGET YOUR REASON }:}:

_"signs of distress or agitation before... hard to see what's right in front of us, sometimes..."_

:{:{ THE SAFEST PLACE IS DEEPEST DARKNESS}:}:

_"... am so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but... recommends... doesn't seem to be... 'The Incident'... would never know at first glance, in some of these cases..."_

:{:{ YOU ARE **DETERMINATION** }:}:

 

* * *

 

( it doesn't end here )

( because i choose that it doesn't )

( it can't end here )

( because i don't want it to be over )

( it will never end unless i say so )

( i decide what happens )

( because i am )

** ( DETERMINATION ) **

 

* * *

 

You open your eyes to a familiar ceiling. It's _different,_ though, like you're seeing it in a way you haven't before; sharp and weighty and _solid._ You feel weirdly like you woke up from a dream within another dream, or something like that. Something was going on, wasn't it? Yes, it definitely was. Someone was sick. _You_ were sick.

It comes back in a hail of tattered snapshots, bits of a thousand moments, flickers of Toriel and freezing cold and vomit in your throat and searing heat and blinding light and noises with teeth, the world through what's left of a shattered kaleidoscope.

Moving is harder than you'd like it to be, but you guess you were sick for a while so that's just the way it is. When you're finally upright you realize that you're in a bed, and then that _Chara_ is sitting on the _end_ of the bed, watching you with wide ruby-red eyes. Oh no, _Chara._ _Days_ have gone by at _least,_ maybe even _weeks_ for all you know _,_ and what have _you_ been doing all this time apart from being worse than useless?

The look on your friend's face could be read in a _lot_ of different ways, which is worrying, and your brow kind of furrows with concern.

(chara, are you okay?)

They stare at you for a few long seconds before they burst out laughing, tears in their eyes, laughing hard enough to wake the dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im curious how many people thought i was just going to let the medication thing slide and how many didnt


	8. It's You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't cover all of what I wanted the next chapter to, but this works as a solid point to break off and post something, so I thought I'd split it up after all.

 

_oh my god, i've gotta gotta gotta gotta move on_

_where do you move when what you're moving from_

_is yourself?_

 

[modest mouse – never ending math equation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5R38Pe-8l9M)

 

* * *

 

So, uh... you going to to explain what the fuck just happened?

Chara still looks on the verge of either laughing again or maybe crying? You're not really sure how to answer them.

(i remember being sick, i think. and i had bad dreams for a while, but i got saved, and i was...)

You trail off, feeling like you're trying to catch smoke before it drifts away. That's right, you _did_ get rescued. It was all doctors and old, angry memories you'd come so close to forgetting, and then you heard the advice – the _old_ advice, the kind you're _familiar_ with – and you were back in the dark, but there was something else... something red? Huh.

Yeah no, stop and explain _that_ real quick.

(sorry. i heard the _real_ voice, the... the one i thought was gone. and now i'm sure that the one down here wasn't it. something _did_ change.)

They try to raise an eyebrow and it doesn't completely work. You try not not to smile too wide. Then their expression goes blank, starts to shift into probably nervousness, and they sort of tilt their head away even though they don't really stop trying to make eye contact. A few really silly seconds go by with heads moving around reflexively before you both give up and silently agree to never talk about it.

Hey. That voice thing... First off, stop calling it _advice,_ it's super creepy. You _have_ to find another name for this shit. Second... um. What. What does it feel like, when it... talks to you.

Chara's gone totally flat, a practiced empty look that you can't begin to pick apart. It's sort of impressive, actually; they're better at it than _you_ were. ... wait, _were?_ Shouldn't it be 'than you _are?'_

(it's kind of like... hmm. maybe, suddenly thinking of a concept that i didn't actually think of, like it's in a language i can almost understand, and fingers moving inside my head, and it's... dark? it's darker than the new one is. it's pitch black.)

Oh.

Picking at their sleeve, swallowing. You fiddle with the sheets – _nice_ sheets, probably the nicest you've ever touched – and try to remember something, _anything_ else.

So... what's this _new_ fucker sound like, then? The dumbass who almost got you killed.

(a little bit the same but... it's not as nice, and it's not very safe, it's not dark enough for that. it's something tapping or clicking or... i'm not really sure. it feels gray and, and... unstable? like it could change colors in a split second, but i don't actually know what that would mean.)

I'm gonna ask this again. _You don't find any of this_ _shit_ _disturbing?_ Actually wait, no, rewind, what did you mean by _"_ _I_ _got saved?"_

(oh. sometimes, when i have bad dreams, something saves me. the dream kind of gets... _eaten_ , maybe, by tv static and weird scratches, and then it's just me alone in the dark until i wake up. it's really nice. that's the only time i've really been able to... um. never mind that last thing. maybe later.)

... They lower their face into their hands, take a deep breath through their nose, exhale. When they reply it ought to be muffled, but it isn't; maybe because their hands aren't solid?

You don't think it's scary to be _ripped out of a dream_ and then spend god knows how long _alone in the dark._ _Instead,_ you call that _really nice._

(did i say something wrong?)

No, you're just right out of some _modern Lovecraft story,_ apparently. Jesus Christ.

They're shaking their head for some reason so you sit up more, sort of shuffle around to get out of bed even though part of you never ever wants to leave it again. You don't really want to leave this place _in general_ , ever ever ever ever.

You will leave it, though, somehow you already know that. It's great, it's _so_ great, but you can't stay forever, you can't _let_ yourself. You're happy, though! You get to spend time in a house that you can leave without having to stab someone in the gut, whether or not they deserve it. _That's_ a nice change of pace.

No, that's... strange. You haven't ever stabbed anyone. Have you? Ugh, you can't _know_ because you never know how to _focus_ enough to stop trying to hide and just... _remember things._ There's always a point when the fog in your head gets too thick and if you had more energy, more _willpower_ , you know you could push through, but you just _don't._

But... you do, though. Because the fog is gone. All that's left in its place is blood, and you can work with that.

You realize abruptly that you really don't _want_ to remember, but it's too late. There are still so many pieces missing, but now you know... who you are? No, that's not right, you have absolutely no idea who you _are,_ you just remember some things about who you _were._ You're starting to feel a weird _divide_ somewhere in the thick, cotton-choked years in between, the years when you were _medicated_ as if they even knew what was _wrong_ with you but no of course no one ever looked deeper because _paying attention_ meant _knowing things they didn't want to know_ and...

And you're not all that mad, thinking about it. Maybe a little bit. Someone was _really_ angry about it, once, and it _is_ sad and dumb when you think about it all, but you're just... somewhere else, now.

Somewhere on the other side of the fog.

(there's something i want to tell you, about myself, if that's okay.)

It's impossible to say it without cringing, wincing a little, but even that's not exactly the same. The spike of fear and the tightness in your stomach are sort of... _less_ than they should be. You think Chara can tell something's changed but their expression isn't very familiar, it has too many feelings in it at once and you can't tell them apart.

Obviously. Listen, I'm all for you spilling your guts about your creepy nightmare secrets, but.

They bite their lip.

Toriel's been freaking out for _days._ She thinks you're dying. I mean, I think you might have _been_ dying, I'm not really sure. You should go fuckin' _tell her_ you're not dead so she doesn't have to... I mean. Look, Mo – aaaargh _Toriel_ shouldn't have to be scared about that _again._

(... again?)

Just go _do it!_ I can't do it _for_ you! Do it as a favor to _me_ if you need another reason.

(i don't! i was just confused. you're sure... will she be mad at me? for making her worry?)

... No. She'll just be glad you didn't croak on her. Trust me. I'd know.

Chara floats off and gives you some space. You hadn't noticed before, but your legs are weak and it's tricky to stand up at first. Your limbs are all a little bit noodly, actually. Is that because you were asleep for longer than you thought? They're already starting to feel more normal, but it's weird having issues moving even though no one's beaten you recently.

Well, you _did_ get shot by a frog, but you were fine again after eating some candy, and then the frog looked kind of sad so you said something nice like Toriel had wanted you to and it let you pet its cute slimy little head for a minute and hopped off.

No wonder Chara likes this place more than the human world. Who wouldn't?

 

* * *

 

So you're just gonna... y'know. _Wait_ a little while before the interrogation. They did almost die, maybe, you think, or go into a coma or some shit. Who knows? They turned the entire world red and goddamn near toppled your mind like an old shack in an earthquake, and apparently now it's _fine._ You wonder how likely they are to claim they don't even _remember_ that, lying or not.

You wouldn't... _intrude_ on Frisk and Toriel, if you weren't kind of concerned about _her_. Okay, you would, but at least you'd _hide_ it and then _lie_ about it; you have _some_ common decency. But...

Maybe you just want to see what it looks like when a child _doesn't_ die under her care.

The child in question stumbles out into the hall, bracing themself on the doorway before steadying again. Jeez. They _really_ took a non-literal beating there, huh? Eh, they'll be fine. Monster food is _fucked up_ good at healing... Most things, at least. They sort of meander through the hall, going past Toriel's room, and then just... _stare_ intensely into the big wall mirror. For, like... a while.

"It's... you," you say awkwardly. You're... really not sure what they're trying to see? After a minute or two, they nod to themself about something and move on.

Frisk hesitates in front of Toriel's closed bedroom door, arm outstretched and slightly twitching an inch away from the old wood, and then sort of slumps without knocking. You twist around in the air to actually see their face and also have a _way_ better angle for lectu – _motivating_ them, but.

Their eyes are shut, completely, not just the ' _mostly closed'_ thing that's usually going on, and then they open again, a tiny bit wider, and whatever you were about to say kind of _dissolves_ before it makes it to your ghost throat. Those are _hard_ eyes, pitch-black enough to blur the line between pupil and iris.

You have this eerie feeling that _your_ eyes didn't look so different from that, in the last seconds before... well. Before two critical decisions you've made, and a few slightly less massive ones. You wonder what choice Frisk just made, and _why._

They reach out again and start knocking.

 

* * *

 

You've made your decision and now something strange sits inside of you; not the heavy, smothering fog, but not really any sort of _lightness_ either. If anything, you feel more... _present._

It's kind of silly feeling like that when what you're doing is turning your back on something and _running_ with no intention of trying to go back, but then again, that's nothing new. All you need for evidence are the long-lost bones of the Frisk who _knew_ things, who _wanted_ things, left to go dusty and forgotten as soon as things got _difficult_.

Running from yourself is the one thing you do best. So... since you're going to run one last time, then this is something you _have_ to try, and today will prove whether you can handle it or not.

Toriel looks down at you like she's having trouble believing what she sees... but it's not _exactly_ that? Something isn't there and it's... weird. Is this what it looks like when someone has trouble believing something in a _good_ way? When it doesn't mean they're about to hit you? It's a risky assumption, but it does sort of make sense. A few seconds later she smiles, and you wonder what that actually means to _you_ , whoever you are.

You decide that you're happy. That feels _true_ in a way you only half-understand, and a little something unclenches inside you. So you _can_ decipher it like this, a piece at a time, even though you won't have time to delve into _every feeling_ as it happens. A better idea would be to just... try to let the flow of the world carry you and then analyze the results later. You might do that once a day, to make sure you understand it all. Let some little part of you keep track of yourself, in the back of your mind.

If you're going to be a person at all, you want to try to do it right.

Of course, that sort of relies on your ability to do _anything_ right – to do hardly anything at _all_ on your own initiative – but... Chara _believes_ in you. _Chara_ believes in you. If they believe in you, then maybe... maybe you _can_ do something if you just want it badly enough. And besides, like they said, things are _different_ down here, somehow. _Magic_ is real. Adults can be _nice._ Your world has _new_ things in it. Maybe here you don't have to be a failure. A freak. Pointless. _Disturbed._

People in this place... 'monsters'... they listen when you speak, even though they can't _hear_ you. The old voice, the _dark_ voice... it was right. You knew it was; it was _always_ right. It doesn't matter how it knew that book was in the attic, or how it knew you would need to learn, because now you're in a place where all those hours, all that practice, all that effort to _keep on_ learning even when everything else about you was turning to colorless clouds... now you're in a place where all of that effort _matters._

... Oh. Something is warm. Actually, it's been warm for a little while now. Toriel is hugging you, and you think she's _crying._ You don't have to consider what _this_ means to you. It's as clear as anything could be. Chara was right.

Eventually, she lets you go, still shaky, rubbing at her eyes with her knuckles. It seems like she has to be careful with the little claws on the ends of her fingers.

_* i'm okay now,_

you sign. She smiles, wiping away another tear.

_* i'm sorry._

... And something _cracks._

_* i'm sorry i scared you. i'm so sorry._

You feel very, very small, and you're already tiny all the time. But – but you can try to... Even just once, you can try to be sorry for _new_ reasons. Not because _you're_ scared, even if you _are._ It's sad, thinking that she was sad and scared, but... maybe it makes you awful, but you're glad that you're sorry for _that,_ for something other than

making too much noise getting in the way being stupid being defective being too broken to even talk out loud like a normal kid getting scared and useless breaking something by accident trying to talk to other kids spending too much time where they could see you not spending enough time where they could track you missing a spot cleaning not hiding your bruises well enough in school wanting to hide from your neighbor accidentally getting something dirty with your blood being irritating being a risk being a waste of space being a waste of money not even keeping house well enough to be worth how much your medication cost crying where someone could hear you being a mistake being _empty_

It's good to say you're sorry to a grown-up because you're _actually sorry,_ not because you're hoping it might make them hurt you a little bit less.

Yeah I'm actually thinking I _don't_ need to be here for this. After all. So. Have fun.

For some reason, you don't need to turn around to be sure that Chara's gone off to do something else for a while.

"There is nothing to apologize for, little one. I am only relieved that you are feeling better." She looks like she's going to... _ask_ you something, you think. The only thing she would ask, then, if you're going to... _trust_... that she has good intentions, is...

_* i won't get sick like that again. so please don't..._

'Please don't worry,' you wanted to say, but it's _hard._ How can you just _assume_ that she would still care if it happened _again?_ There must be a line somewhere. There's _always_ a line, and once you cross it, all you are to someone is an obstacle, if not an enemy.

But she's waiting for you to continue, so you can at least try to _explain._

_* back in the... on the surface, i mean, there was medication i took all the time. but i don't have it anymore, and i'm not really sure how monster bodies work, but for humans it's really bad to stop taking that kind of stuff all at once._

She nods, seeming a little bit confused, but she's a grown-up, she can make enough sense out of it.

"Will you be safe without this medicine? If there is a sickness that might harm you, I am not sure whether magic could be used to treat it."

_* oh! no, i'll be fine. there isn't anything wrong with my body._

_Now_ she seems confused.

"Then, if you do not mind my asking, what _was_ its purpose?"

You... don't make a whole lot of facial expressions unless you're trying to. They're mostly tools for survival or dangers you need to suppress. Even when you're _genuinely_ happy, you usually have to _choose_ to show it; it isn't that it's difficult, it's just not _automatic._

So you're a little confused by the way one corner of your mouth starts twitching up, trying to smile. No, it's not really a smile... it's something else, and you can only think of a few times in your life this has happened. You _refuse_ to associate something as good as this situation with _that_ expression. The twitching you try to suppress might actually be worse, but you really don't care.

_* it was supposed to make me less insane. that's what they wanted._

She blinks. That twitching is getting worse, but you keep yourself under control by biting the inside of your lip. You hate this feeling, the face you won't let yourself make. It's _wrong_ somehow, and it leaves you feeling like you're remembering something terrible that hasn't happened yet, or something horrible you could become. Like that foreign phrase about seeing something you thought you already had but hadn't, except... backwards. Gross.

_* it didn't work. i'm still broken._

"That is a terrible thing to say about yourself. Child, you were not... made to do this against your will, were you?"

_* well, yes? why would it have mattered what i wanted?_

A big part of you means that; why would it _ever_ matter what you want? Someone as hollow as _you?_ But a smaller part, a memory belonging to someone else, is still angry, _bitter._ Why would _they_ care what _anyone_ wanted? Especially a _problem child?_

It makes sense either way, but Toriel just seems horrified.

"Of course it matters. You are your own person, and while I can understand, perhaps, a parent going too far out of worry –"

_* i don't have parents. i never did. i was a mistake, so it didn't count._

"... What?"

_* no one was worried about me. they were sick of dealing with me, and then they were scared of me, too. it doesn't ever matter what a kid wants for themself if an adult wants something else._

That's just how it is; it's always been that way and it always will be, so you're a little surprised that Toriel only looks more and more upset, especially because you think she's upset _for your sake_. Monsters really are strange, aren't they? You still don't understand what she thinks is weird about this.

_* it didn't make me better, though. i think that it just made me more convenient. it made me too tired to care about... anything._

... You're only _barely_ lying. There were a _few_ things that you still cared about, that you still wanted to remember, and there was one thing you wanted that even you didn't _realize,_ not until the very last second. Not until right before you... well...

 _That's_ also why you don't like the face that's trying to wear you right now. You don't have to _regret_ something to realize it makes you a... well, not a monster, now that you know what those really are, but _something_ less than human, _worse_ than human. Maybe not regretting it is _why_ you're worse. A human wouldn't have _that_ expression when they've just done something unforgivable.

Then again... _Chara_ doesn't like humans much at all, and you guess that other than _them,_ you might not either. You've still only met _one human_ who was nice to you, and you're pretty sure you're ten years old, which is already _so many years._ All you really want is to be a _person,_ and now it's obvious that people don't have to be _human_ to still count as real people, so... maybe you're not so sure you –

You startle and gasp when Toriel hugs you again. You need to stop getting so lost in your own head.

For now, you'll let yourself get lost in feeling warm instead.

 

* * *

 

Being outside the house is weird when there's a _glowing star-thing_ just kind of sitting there, _pulsing,_ but this was the right choice. You couldn't be there for that, not once you fucking... _thought_ about it for half a goddamned second.

It probably makes you a gross asshole – well, you already knew _that_ – but you don't want to see the... _happy ending_ to this little drama. The look on Toriel's face when someone _doesn't_ die half-crazed in agony on her watch. When the sick kid _does_ turn out to be okay. They deserve that. Frisk does, Toriel sure as _fuck_ does, but you just _can't._

 _You_ didn't get a fucking happy ending. It's not that you ever _thought_ you would. You're not _stupid._  There's no such thing as happy endings for someone like  _you_ _._ But a little part of you keeps thinking, _'what if I had accidentally recovered, what if I_ hadn't _succeeded at finally killing myself, what if she woke up one morning and got to be_ happy _,'_ and it's bullshit, it's not fucking _fair_ because you don't _regret_ what you tried to do. You'll _never_ regret what you wanted, even if you had to lie to Asriel about a few things, even if it was _horrible_ trying to get there.

What if he hadn't stopped you? What if you'd been _stronger?_

You'd wanted them to die _so badly,_ an ache as deep as anything _can_ ache, desperate to make the humans face the fact that there are _consequences_ to their fucking _actions_ , see the terror and _regret_ in their eyes while the whole town burned. You'd sort of idly imagined chasing down the pathetic stragglers, herding them into dead ends before running Asriel's badass swords _right through their guts_ and watching them puke up their own filthy blood.

And the barrier? You'd have torn that piece of human garbage up like _scraps of paper!_ If seven SOULs could carry that much power, then what would happen once you had _hundreds?_ Hell, _thousands?_ If it had all gone according to plan, the two of you would have been a fucking _god among gods_ before you even got done cleaning out the valley. It would have been _incredible._ The humans would all be _dead_ , and the _people_ would finally be _free._

You thought that if you just _wanted_ it badly enough you could make it _happen_ , and everything you saw out there makes you think you were _absolutely right._ You just... the idea that maybe _he_ could want something even more than _you_ wanted something had never even crossed your mind.

Why, though? Why did he want to _stop_ so badly? Sure, you didn't tell him _everything_ , but he... he _had your SOUL!_ He should have felt what you felt, he should have been able to _understand!_ You really believed that, too, even though you knew he was too _Asriel_ to want to hurt anybody, thought that once he just felt your SOUL, felt all the places humans _tore_ at you and _took_ from you and broke the illusions that either you _or_ them could _ever_ be redeemed... you really _believed_ that he'd finally see that you had been right, that there was _nothing_ worth sparing outside of this underground paradise the monsters couldn't see for what it was.

You wanted to believe he could finally learn... and he _didn't._ Even with your own SOUL inside of him, he just couldn't understand you. So... did you fail Asriel, or did Asriel fail you? You _still_ don't know.

But then... your memories don't really mean jack shit _now_ , do they? You still have eternity to dwell on them with no hope and no _anything_. So whatever. _Whatever!_ Who even cares?! You're dead and he's dead and that's that, isn't it? Why are you floating here _giving a shit?_

Memories, though.

Yours are garbage, useless, but what in the ever-loving _fuck_ was that shit you brushed up on when Frisk, like, exploded into bullshit? That _had_ to have been weird shards of their memories, right? Nothing else makes sense. It got so... _garbled_ , mixed up. You think it was already like that for _Frisk_ , so whatever you... saw? heard?... was even less coherent, but...

Those flashes of offices, old men with degrees, that _'so sorry you have to suffer because your kid is all fucked up,'_ bullshit _._ You think pieces are starting to fall into place. Not all of them, not even _close_ , but there's a picture forming in your mind, and if it's even _close_ to correct, the Frisk you know really is almost _completely_ different than the Frisk from those memories.

Who were the other humans in there, though? Psychologists and psychiatrists and therapists, whatever, who gives a shit, but it wasn't _just_ those. You think you saw... that _must_ have been their 'family' or 'parents' or whatever the fuck, but is _that_ really what they are in Frisk's mind, now? Like, you thought _you_ were creepy.

The voices you heard should never have come from _anything_ , dead or alive, and humans don't have bodies chained up in _sparkly black smoke_ , and they sure as fuck don't have their faces _covered up by huge red X's,_ like they were scribbled over with a blood-colored crayon.

There's something you have to ask them about, too. About their _'advice.'_

You think you heard it, before the whole Holy Shit Everything Is Fucking Red thing. Probably _through Frisk_ , somehow, or maybe not, fuck, you don't know. What you do know is that yep, it's legit, and yep, you _really_ kinda sorta wish it wasn't legit, and you don't understand what the _fuck_ it was saying in Frisk's memories, but there was some shit about _symbols_ and _reasons_ and _darkness_ and what even _is_ this kid? Who _is_ Frisk? Who did they _kill?_

... also more importantly _how_ did they kill them? You _gotta_ hear the details, was it stabbing, beating, shooting, _poisoning?_ Can they describe the expressions on the human's face? Did it cry and piss itself? Beg for mercy? _That's_ the kind of story you can look forward to, so hey, Chara, maybe for once you _can_ cheer up a little bit.

Not _everything_ is horrible!


	9. How To Exit The Ruins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which children flip their shit, just like every chapter

 

_the worst is yet to come, my dear_

_i've been fighting back for what feels like_

_nearly several hundred years_

_if you just let me make my own mistakes_

_i promise i'll behave, only in the worst way_

 

[motion city soundtrack – the worst is yet to come](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWizcllIKvA)

 

* * *

 

You find your friend – _friend your friend it wasn't impossible_ _everyone_ _was_ _wrong_ _remember it's okay it's okay_ _and_ _you're friends it was real that was real_ _–_ sort of brooding outside the house past the shiny star thing, once Toriel's calmed down and you're sure she'll be okay. Chara is just floating there, staring unhappily at the big black tree and the blood-red leaves around the base of its trunk.

The look on their face... it's not... Chara would never _hurt_ you, so you can risk letting them see you, right? It'll be okay. They aren't going to scream at you, or throw things, or – they're _Chara_ , that's the important thing. You can do this. You have to keep doing this, decoding what does or doesn't signify danger in this place, with these people you just can't understand.

But also... they just... they're not _okay,_ even _you_ can tell that. And you've discovered another thing about yourself, now, to file away for later examination: you are not okay with letting Chara not be okay. Maybe you're wrong and they'll be mad, but...

It's confusing and new, but the risk of letting your friend suffer apparently scares you even more than risking being beaten and told you should just go die already and stop wasting everyone's time.

So this is another part of what friendship feels like, then. You can actually see the shape of that concept now, maybe, or at least part of it. This must be what it's like for someone to care about you and to care about them too, this awful ache in your chest like you'd drown yourself in their pain if it would make them feel even a little bit better.

The truth is that you're _tired_ of hurting, so tired, and that's exactly why you understand almost all of what's written on their face. Nothing could make you mistake what it feels like inside when a face like that is on the outside. Chara can't feel like that. They _can't._

You won't _allow_ it.

(hi.)

They don't reply right away. They sort of twitch their head a little, though, so you know they heard you, nothing's gone wrong, everything is still fine, you can still talk to them it's not going to break right they can't read your signs so this has to keep working it has to it has to keep working because you...

... need to trust them, don't you? Trust that they're not leaving, even if they can't reply right away.

What are you supposed to say? This isn't... you don't know how to be nice to someone correctly. You barely have any frame of reference. And you can't even do – TV things, book things, like hugging or that thing where someone puts their arm one someone's shoulder, or – because you can't _touch_ them and you never knew it could feel so bad to know a person who's physically incapable of actually harming you. The day you left the valley ::How to exit the ruins:: you would have given _anything_ for no one to be able to touch you again, to just phase right through, and now that wish has come true in a limited way and you can't _stand_ it.

You don't know what you're supposed to do, so all you can do is... well, say what you'd want to hear, if you were in their place. Maybe you'll mess that up, because no one's ever really... but Chara won't hurt you, so...

(... do you want to... talk about it?)

Silence. That's better than a lot of responses, though.

(i might not understand. but i'm... here. and i'll listen. if you. want me to.)

They turn their head all the way this time, jerky and weird, and their big red eyes are as wide as you've ever seen them. Chara opens their mouth to talk and then bites down on their lip, hard. It looks _really_ hard, actually. You think the skin would be broken if they were alive.

I'm fine,

they mumble, and you're not sure whether it's okay to tell them you know they're lying. Even _you_ know that much. So you just... keep watching them, wordless, forcing yourself to keep stable, not to look away. It's hard, but... they're worth that.

Okay, Jesus, so I'm _not_ fine, are you _happy?_ Fuckin'... weird-ass...

But they trail off into nothing, and they're the one who looks down.

(i'm not happy that you're not fine. but i'm happy you were... honest.)

... You make it _so hard_ to hate you, you know that?

(do you want to hate me?)

Not. Really.

Words bitten off, like it hurts to say them. Does it really hurt to say some things? Physically? Maybe you'll ask, someday. You've never said a word unless you were dreaming, not many even then, and definitely not about anything that might hurt you somehow.

Listen. I'm glad things worked out. But I don't wanna _hear_ about it. _Any_ of it. I'll get... and you're the only person left I don't want to...

They let their face fall into one palm, and suddenly they're angry, _so_ angry, and when you take a step back and raise your hands halfway to covering your face, they flinch, pull at their hair, and let out a terrible strangled half-shriek.

I DO want to hate you, _okay?!_ This would be _SO MUCH FUCKING EASIER_ if I could just _hate_ you, but you make it _so hard!_ Even when I didn't _know_ you it was hard to hate you and I have _no idea why_ and I never _wanted_ this, you fucking _asshole!_ I never wanted to care about a _human!_ I didn't need to know there was a human I wouldn't want to _kill_ and you're _so nice_ it makes me want to _fucking puke_ and I have so many _questions_ that I bet you won't even _answer_ and half of them you _CAN'T ANSWER_ and I don't know _what the fuck is going on_ and I don't even know why I _exist_ when I _remember dying!_

Can they see you shaking all over, your arms still frozen between 'neutral' and 'defense?'You wonder if they've noticed that they're crying, or that _you've_ noticed it. It probably makes you horrible, even more horrible than you already are, but somehow the idea that someone would _want_ to hate you and still end up being your friend... makes you happy?

It's scary standing here, trying not to run or cry or lose yourself while they rant, but you have to do it, you _want_ to do it, because it's wrong for Chara to have to cry.

(i'm sorry if it's bad, and i can't understand why, but i'm glad you couldn't hate me.)

 _ Why? _ Why do you care?! Why would you want a friend like _this?_ I'm a _human_ and you _know_ what that means, I _know_ you do! I'm everything that ever _hurt_ you and everything that ever hurt _me_ and... I'm a _demon_ , okay? Monsters are good, but I'm...

(well... i don't think you're a demon.)

 _ You don't even KNOW me! _ You have _no fucking clue_ what I've done, how much I've hurt people, how many things I've _ruined_ , even when I didn't _have_ to! If you knew the kind of shit I... if you knew what I've done, you _wouldn't_...

(it doesn't really matter what you did, at least to me. i mean, i stabbed someone once. even if you were a real demon, i couldn't judge you. i wouldn't want to try.)

What is _wrong_ with you? How... can you...

All you do is stare, and eventually they wipe off their ghost tears and you don't think you've ever seen anyone look this vulnerable before, not anyone but yourself in a mirror.

I don't regret the shit I've done, Frisk. I know I'm a demon. I hate people. I hate _everyone._ I hate _humans._ I hate _every single fucking human in the world_ who's not you. Do you... do you _really_ get what I mean? I've _hurt_ people. I, I. I got someone _killed_ and I'm _still_ not sorry for the shit I've done.

(i'm still not sorry for stabbing him,)

you say with a little shrug, and at first you don't even realize that you're smiling through your fear. You didn't even have to _try,_ but there's no sickness there, no wrongness to it. It just... happened.

... good,

they say, quietly, and smile back through wet eyes. It starts small and twitchy, hesitant, but seeing them smile at all cuts at your tension until your arms finally slump back to your sides. It's a smile that's all points and sharp edges.

You decide you like it.

 

* * *

 

It doesn't feel like much time at all before Frisk is having dinner with Toriel. Actually feels damn near _instantaneous_ , until you realize that going by underground-time, it's probably mid-afternoon already. You never did get a sense of how the hell they _tracked_ that shit; you were always sleeping through half the day, waking up in the middle of the night thinking it was morning and rolling Asriel out of his bed on the floor – well, that last part you did _every_ time you woke up and he was asleep for whatever reason, mostly to hear him bleat like a jackass.

... You wish you hadn't thought about that, so you stop thinking about it. Immediately.

Toriel's obviously still on edge, sitting at the table with a little nervous tic to one of her claws that you're _sure_ she didn't have when you were alive. You would've noticed that little scratch at her old robe, the spot where the fabric's worn just a little thin even though you _know_ she must spend like, hours on maintining the goddamn thing. Catalogued it along with every other one of her and Asgore's mannerisms, written it down on your list of things to decode.

It was a long list. You had one for Asriel, too, now that you think about it, but...

Your list for Asriel was actually a _lot_ shorter. There was just _something_ about him that you could never pin down no matter how hard you tried; sometimes he'd look like he was about to laugh at some thought he'd had and then, in a flicker of an instant, it'd be gone. Sometimes you'd swear he was about to make a movement, telegraphing it as blindly as he _seemed_ to do everything else, and then... _nothing._ You pushed him on it a few times and he threw the kind of vaguely adorable tantrums he always did when you weren't treating him like he was made of glass, except he never backed down when it was like this, not like usual. There were a few times you even threatened to break some of his toys, and that almost _always_ worked when he was being stupid, but it never worked _those_ times. He'd just... _look_ at you, and you'd swear you could see something deeper and weirder reflected in his eyes. Those might have been the only times he showed any backbone before... well.

Hell, this was part of why you thought he'd be able to go all-in with the _plan._ You just had this _feeling_ that something in him _could_ understand, that anyone who could somehow pull off moments that were impossible for _you_ to read must have had some _reason_ for it, like if you'd had the time maybe he wouldn't even have _needed_ your SOUL to understand... and now it's gonna stay weird and unsolved _literally_ _forever_ , so maybe you should stop _thinking_ about him! You know, like you decided roughly _two seconds ago,_ you fucking _dumbass._ There are _alive_ people who need analyzing right now, anyway.

Meanwhile Frisk is staring at a bowl of slug soup and a little slice of pie like they think the things are booby-trapped and gonna blow their hands or face off. Ah, fuck. _This_ sure is familiar, and it's gonna be awkward as hell seeing as she just never figured _you_ out, either, didn't seem to get that of course you'd fucking eat slugs, who gives a shit? It wasn't about what _kind_ of food it was. That confidence from earlier looks cracked, too; you'd give it abouuuut... one sentence before they burst into tears.

"Please, my child," Toriel says very gently and carefully, "don't be afraid. You are more than welcome to anything you'd like."

Well, shit. _That's_... not at all what you expected, and they _do_ keep it together.

Very slowly, very carefully, obviously ready to fucking run at the first sign of trouble, Frisk scoops up a small slug and a little broth, hesitates, looks to Toriel – no, looks _at_ Toriel – and then downs it. You... when _you_ showed up, she was worried humans don't like to eat _slugs._ To be fair, she would've been right about most kids. Did she... finally put it together, in retrospect? And if she _didn't_ , then why does she understand _now?_

They sign something and she smiles. Fuck. _Fuck!_ You have to learn this weird hand language. Of course you just _had_ to keep putting it off when you lived here, right up until you stopped living, and now it's biting you in the ass. The... ghost ass. Whatever. It's... maybe they'll... _fuck!_ You _hate_ asking for help, makes you feel like finding the person who's willing to offer it and smashing their face into a pulp, but you're gonna go batshit insane if you can only understand _half of every conversation Frisk has with someone who's not you._

Frisk glances at the pie and instantly looks guilty... Toriel smiles and gives a little nod, and again, it seems like she _gets it._ Why does that make you wish you could hate _her_ , too?

Okay, you know why, you just hate the answer even _more._

They pick up their fork like they're afraid it'll bite them, sort of wiggle-cut a little bit of pie and spear it. It's _excruciating_ watching how goddamned shaky their hand is. So they're gonna commit, they're gonna try to get a spine and it's obvious, but... man. _That's_ not all gonna develop in one night's sleep or a half-hour of goat hugs.

You're pretty sure, just going by the look on their face, that this is the best thing they've ever eaten. _Actually for real_ the best thing, too. Toriel looks even happier, like she can tell she's doing _something_ right, and it makes you hate her and love her _more_ , which you wouldn't have thought was even possible. She doesn't notice the _other_ thing they do.

While Toriel's a bit distracted, they carefully nudge their napkin with the side of one hand, pushing the dull-edged little butterknife a few inches away from themself.

Huh. This... seems like something worth remembering. You don't want to, like, _pry,_ that'd be pretty shitty of you, but you totally want to, and you don't actually care about being a shitty person, since you already are one anyway.

And then the questions start. You bite the inside of your ghost-lip without really meaning to.

A lot of it's pretty normal stuff, which Frisk... well, who the fuck knows what _Frisk_ is saying? Not _you._ Not their _friend._ No, it's their friend's _M_ – _guardian._ An _adult._ Granted, like, an adult _monster_ , but...

You bite your lip harder, very much on purpose this time.

Eventually, she gets to the important stuff.

"Child," she says again, kinda slow, "While I am very happy that you do not seem too distressed by what you have seen in the Underground, I cannot help but wonder... well... _why_ you have not displayed any particular fear of monsters," she finishes awkwardly, and that one claw tip speeds up just a little.

They sign something back and she _flinches._ Um. The fuck?

"I... suppose you are not _wrong_ , exactly. But, I cannot help but wonder –" Toriel stops herself from asking whatever she was _gonna_ ask and moves on to something else. "If I may ask," she says, even slower, "how is it that you came here? I know that, even as recently as a mere twenty years ago, human superstitions about the mountain still existed..."

Excuse you? Hold the _fucking_ phone? Have you... have you been dead for _twenty years?_ No way. No, no, that's way too long, you were... fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck!_ Sorry, Toriel, you are just not gonna be able to even _sort of_ hold back on the swearing, not after hearing _this._ You _still_ don't really understand what happened, though, because everything is so _different_. What happened in the last... the last twenty years that could lead to this much _change?_

Frisk's signing something back. You kinda feel like there's a reason you had time to think all of that before they responded, and that's... ugh. They're so _transparent_ when they're not totally inexplicable.

What'd you just tell her?

You were trying to stay out of this for a few minutes, you _swear._ It seemed like... something you should do. But no, screw that, you can't take this passive observer shit. There's a way to interact with the situation, and you're taking it.

(i told her i got lost. i can tell she doesn't believe me, but it doesn't seem like she's mad that i lied?)

Why the fuck _did_ you climb this mountain, anyway?

Probably no point in asking, since you're ninety nine percent sure you already know, but you want to hear _them_ say it, in their _own_ words.

(oh, i was going to kill myself. i mean, i sort of did, except i didn't die so i guess i screwed it up?)

... Should you feel weird about feeling _good_ that they just straight up _said it_ like it was nothing? Just something totally not weird to say to someone?

(unless i didn't screw up, and this is actually hell? i don't really think there's a hell,though, plus it seems too nice to be hell, and i definitely wouldn't go to heaven, so i decided it must be real.)

Wow. That's literally the exact reason _you_ decided it was real. It just... uh. Took you a little longer to come to the conclusion. Like, _weeks_ longer, not that you said anything about it to Toriel or Asgore. You _did_ ask Asriel, though, the very first day when you were bleeding and beat up and disoriented. He didn't even know what the words _mean_ _t,_ so the subject never really came up again. Now you wonder if maybe his _parents_ knew and he was just that much of a dork.

He definitely had enough dork-factor for that to make sense. Still, though. You'd think an eleven year old would already be _really_ familiar with the concept of hell.

Yeah, it's definitely not _hell._ Hell's where _we_ came from.

(... i guess it sort of it, isn't it?)

There's no _sort of,_ Christ. It sucks so hard that being dead's still better than having to keep on living up there. And obviously we _both_ agree on that –

... Whoops.

I mean. Ah, fuck, whatever. Why do I care if you know about that, anyway.

(oh. that's how come you're here, too? that makes sense. everyone there is always being horrible, but you're not, so they probably hated you too.)

That's _one_ way to phrase it, except I _am_ horrible. There's no getting away from that when you're human. I just got sick of... _everything_ , I guess. Them, myself, the whole stupid mess.

(do you think _i'm_ horrible?)

... God fucking damn it.

Every human is horrible, but I think you're... maybe the _least_ horrible.

(thank you.)

Wow. You almost can't believe that wasn't sarcastic, but it was so earnest that it _stings._ Fuck your life, seriously. Or your death, whatever. Fuck life _and_ fuck being a ghost. Couldn't you have just been... _gone?_ You know, the thing that _would've made sense?_ If you'd just stayed _dead_ the right way you wouldn't have to deal with any of this, but no, even _dying_ couldn't get you out of this shitty world.

"I realize that I have been rather rude... You have been here all of this time, and I suppose I am so used to living here alone that I've forgotten a few... obvious courtesies?"

They kinda tilt their head in confusion and sign something else that probably means 'what' or 'huh.' As if you'd have any clue, though. For all you know it was 'die in a fire.' It... obviously wasn't that, but you know, it _could've_ been.

"My apologies, but I have not yet asked your name."

You sort of freeze up. So does Frisk. Alright then. Is this the part where they inevitably prove they were full of shit about not wanting anybody but you to know their name? Of course it is, why _wouldn't_ it be? And why should you even _care?_ It pisses you off that you care. You keep doing that – _giving a shit_ about things – and you _really_ don't care for that.

... They sign their response, and if Toriel's reaction is anything to go by, they were _not_ lying to you.

 

* * *

 

Hey.

You're back in what you guess is Frisk's room, now; they're kind of... staring at nothing, thinking about _something_ , and you're doing what you always do these days: floating around restlessly and wishing you could break something, _anything._ Fuck, you'll settle for _touching_ something normally, but it would feel _amazing_ to just start hurling things at walls and watching them snap and shatter. You could not possibly be more pissed that you didn't get to at least be a poltergeist.

(yes?)

Earlier today you said there was something about you that you wanted to tell me. So... what the hell _is_ it? Don't you dare leave me in suspense here.

(oh. it's kind of stupid... it's just. i don't think i really _have_ a 'myself' anymore.)

The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?

(well... there's so much i can't remember, and there's a lot i don't want to remember. i think that i was maybe a lot angrier before – um. before the medication. and i had a lot more opinions.)

Sounds good to me. There any reason you _wouldn't_ want to be that kind of person?

(... maybe? it's... weird to even think of myself as a person. i guess i spent so long so close to being no one at all that i don't know how to be the frisk from before all of that started? and... i'm not sure i _want_ to be. i don't have the same feelings they did, mostly, not after all this time, and i don't know what to think about anything anymore.)

Okay. Great. Whatever. Where's this going?

(i don't know who i am, but i'm probably _someone_ , if i do get to be real... so i decided i want to learn about the me i am today? if that makes sense?)

As much sense as any of the crazy shit you say.

They smile at you, this awkward little smile that you can just barely tell they had to _decide_ to put on. You're... pretty sure it's still _real,_ even if their default expression is just this weird _blankness_. You'd kind of assumed they were doing that on purpose, but now you wonder if maybe that really _is_ their normal face, and any time they do something else with it they had to think about it first.

(i've been paying attention to how i feel about things, and whenever i have a reaction or an opinion, i want to... write it down somewhere, or memorize it or something. that way i can take all those things over time and kind of... keep track of myself.)

You know, if that means you growing a little bit of a spine, then fuckin' go for it. Still not as creepy as the time you almost maybe died and then just exploded instead.

(wait, i did what?)

... forget it. It's nothing.

(okay. i just ::How to exit the ruins:: oh fuck.)

Their eyes go wide, which means they actually look halfway open for once. Also, wow, have they ever said 'fuck' before? You must be a good influence.

Wait, what the hell did they just say?

Wait, what the hell did you just say?

(i... noticed it that time. it told me the same thing earlier, but i didn't want to think about it. i guess it's not done saying it.)

Do you even _want_ to 'exit the ruins'?

(...)

Frisk?

(maybe? i think i kind of _have_ to, even if i don't want to, but...)

What the hell? I thought you _didn't_ have to listen to that shit if you didn't want to.

(i don't. i was thinking about this even before it told me. i don't really deserve to be here, and if i do, i don't deserve to be here for very long.)

If you keep thinking about shit in terms of what you deserve and not what you want, you're gonna fuck yourself over. If you want it then _take_ it.

(it's not only that, though. i just... this won't make any sense, and i'm not sure it makes sense even to me, but i feel like there's another reason. not the advice, just some _other_ reason i'm going to want to... move on, i guess?)

You were right, it doesn't make any sense. Just... as soon as it _does_ make sense to you, you'd better fuckin' explain yourself.

(i promise i will.)

... And you're gonna _hold_ them to that fucking promise, because they had better have a good goddamned reason for coming from the _shithole_ they did, ending up with _Toriel,_ and then _deciding to leave that behind._ You'll try to believe it. You will. Maybe they have that reason, maybe they don't.

If they don't...

Ha. Hahaha. If they don't, then _what?_ It's not like you have a say in any of this. Wherever they go, you go too. You hate feeling helpless more than anything but humanity, and boy are you ever fucking helpless in _this_ situation, tangled up in a leash Frisk couldn't let go of if they wanted to.

... You haven't actually _told_ them that, yet, have you? Obviously you _should_ , except that... for some reason you don't really _want_ Frisk to know. You're not sure if it's because you want to minimize how much power they can have over you, or if it's because... some part of you doesn't want them to feel _guilty_ about it, if only because things have been _the worst_ for them recently.

God, you _can't stand_ _it_ when people make you give a shit about them. This almost _never_ happens! You feel like you're on Barney or some shit, that's how sappy you're being. It's _weak_ , and if you weren't already dead, you'd be more concerned about it, but... it's not like you can die _again._

Or is it? Because you've been tethered to some kid you barely know for _days,_ your life was completely stupid in the first place, and as long as it doesn't mean being stuck in that... timeless darkness, drowned and conscious in some _howling_ _void_ _,_ if it just means _not having to exist..._ then sign you the fuck up for oblivion.

You know... why _this mountain_ , though?

(hmm?)

I mean, you could have done it in a billion ways. Or even gone halfway and then just kinda flopped off the edge. Why climb all of Hellfuck Mountain, explore a weird cave, and _then_ jump in a hole?

(... well, i thought... if i had a chance to end things on my own terms, i wanted it to be somewhere dark, and even at night the valley gets some light pollution from the city. it was even darker in that hole. it seemed like a place where i'd be in the dark forever, so... i guess it wasn't as scary.)

Every time I think you can't creep me out more, you find a way. You know, I'm not supposed to be _easy_ to creep out.

(should i be proud of that?)

I – what? The hell does _that_ mean?

(hehe, never mind. i decided i'm proud of it.)

... Fuck my _life._

You cover your face with your hands and groan miserably.

(you mean your death?)

They start up with this huffing noise, like somebody holding in a shit-eating giggle, and when you look back at them they're doing the quarter-smile again. You flip them off with both hands.

So they figured out how to laugh at somebody else's expense, huh?

... Well, it's slow going, but it's progress!

 

* * *

 

You keep waiting to cross a line with Toriel and it just... doesn't happen. She gave you _food_ without making you work, first. She let you _eat at the table._ When you didn't want to tell her your name, you _knew_ that would break the spell, that would be the moment things shifted, and then it wasn't. _Something_ happened, you saw that much, but... she wasn't angry or even suspicious.

She just... let you do what you were most comfortable with.

It's _weird_ and it's almost scarier than it would be if there were _rules_ to interacting with her. _Almost._ Those kinds of rules don't really work anyway _,_ you know that; at any given second they might suddenly not apply anymore, there might be nothing you can do to keep the damage as small as you can.

Maybe someone had a bad day or something... or someone thought they saw you looking at _that_ kitchen drawer, the one that they put a lock on, even though you don't think you could ever stab someone again, not even if you were backed into a corner.

... it's not like the knife even _killed_ anyone.

 _Those_ people aren't here, though, and you that means... their rules are gone too. _All_ the rules are suddenly just... _unknown._

It's _worse_ than you thought, days ago. It's not a ghost this time, not someone who _can't_ hurt you, it's... _her._ And she's a grown-up and she's huge and she can _set stuff on fire with her mind_ and it's just – this is impossible, this is the _worst._ You _made_ yourself try to forget about this for just a little while, tried to just... act like you _belonged,_ and it's all come rushing back in, the uncertainty, the _terror._

Chara doesn't really notice you, busy haunting Toriel outside the room. They don't see the way your hand clutches at your heart through your shirt, how you close your eyes, try to make it make it darker, safer, breathing as slow and smooth as you can manage – you don't have any _rules_ to go by, there's no guide to to what'll keep eyes off you and what'll get you hit somewhere bruises don't show, nothing at _all,_ and you _can't_ breathe, lose any hope of a _rhythm_ , and your forever-closed throat is crushing itself inward and you don't want this anymore but there's _no escaping_ and how could you _forget_ how could you _forget?_

You _don't know what anyone expects_ and you don't know what _she_ expects, whatever she _says,_ and it _eats_ at you, turns your guts, bites like hunger. The uncertainty is almost too much, stings like the nails dug into your palms, and – and... it... might not work the same at all? What if... How can you know for sure it _will_ be so awful, when _she_ doesn't even know _you?_ _Y_ _ou_ don't know who you are either, do you? What if... the rules are _simpler?_ If they're kinder? If... if there are somehow hardly any at all? Maybe 'Frisk' had to be scared like that, but _Frisk_ doesn't? Maybe it's even just _less_ bad? You're scared of making that kind of assumption _too_ but there's _logic_ to it, it's not _impossible,_ and that thought just barely pulls you back to a place where you can get a litle air, find a foothold to try to be stronger.

Have to clear your head a little. Pull together, even just a small amount. You try to think about _safe_ things: endless black spaces and static-clouded strings of numbers, shimmery webs and the sweet little spiders in your old attic, the way bloody light seems to glitter in Chara's eyes when they smile for real, the firm grounding weight of something heavy in your hands, the amazing feeling of a _mattress_ under you and warm sheets above, and that's... maybe good enough, for now. You can't stop shaking, but more and more you can actually _breathe_ again _._ More and more you're... _present._

::How to exit the ruins::

... but please can this thing just be _quiet?_ It's not kind at all, it's gray and flickery and emotionless and it's started to click and tap at your mind, buzz like electricity in the air except through the creases in your brain instead, and you _know_ you have to exit the _stupid ruins_ , you _know_ that already, you didn't _need to be told!_ You don't need to be _reminded_ by this thing. It's _not_ the friend you grew up with, it's something different and it doesn't belong and you wish it would leave you alone, you wish it would give you back your _real_ advice.

Can't you just... it's wrong but can't you be a _little_ bit selfish? Just this one time? It's getting all hot behind your eyelids, you can _feel_ a first sob pulling up through your throat and _no,_ you're sick of _crying_ and you're _not_ going to cry, at least not this time, and for once you choke it back down. You just... you want... you just want to steal a _couple of days._ That's all. It's not that you don't know that's _bad,_ cheating, _theft,_ but... well, you guess you're just not a very good person.

It's getting a little late, you think – it's hard to tell down here – but it's not _too_ late. Through the door and around through the hallway you can still hear movement; her heavy footsteps make it so easy to know exactly where she is. You'd hear that _anyway,_ but... it helps, somehow, to feel even more certain about it. There's also the faint sound of... is that...

water?

oh _no._ oh god.

_you didn't wash the dishes._

it was all such a whirlwind, at least to you, and she'd just swept you away to get some extra rest. it happened so fast, you didn't even notice yourself stepping into a trap.

oh god. oh god oh god oh god.

so much for finally being sort of calm again.

(chara? can you hear me? hello? hey? hey hey hey hey hey hey –)

Holy shit I hear you! Chill out! Wait, you can hear _me?_ I'm like, on the other side of the building.

(yeah i guess so that's not the point the point is ::How to exit the ruins:: _shut up_ _SHUT_ _UP_ the _point_ is i didn't do the dishes, i didn't keep things clean, she got me, it was a test and i let down my guard and i _didn't_ _even wash my OWN dishes_ and –)

 _ Whoa!  _ Slow the hell down, seriously. You're fine. She's not gonna freak out on you, it wasn't like, some creepy _test_ or whatever you think it is, she's just... doing her Mom thing?

(that's not how it works i have to fix it _i have to fix it_ i don't want to get –)

 _ Frisk. _ She  _doesn't care._ If you're this freaked out about it, just... ugh. I don't know. You could ask if she wants _help_ with it, maybe. If _that's_ the kind of thing you're into.

(but i – but...)

Take half a second to _chill. Out._ And then just go _do_ it.

(... o-okay. i'll... i'll try.)

... I swear, she's not gonna hit you.

(i'll try.)

Yeah. Maybe... maybe they're right? But – you _didn't even –_ there's a _line_ and if you didn't cross it with _this_ then what _would_ cross it? Chara should know, though, right? They... they'd know. And if they're right somehow, if she... _actually doesn't care_ , maybe... if she really is the way she seems, like one of the pretend moms on TV, maybe she'd even... let you use some paper and a pencil or pen? If you asked? It's a _lot_ , but...

She doesn't know what you are. What you _did._ So maybe she'd let you have something like that. Something you could write with. You _do_ want to start on that list, and you want to... you're just so sick and tiredof being  _scared!_ For once you want to try to do something and actually _follow through._

Well, you... did that twice, you guess, but considering one of those times _killed_ someone and the other was supposed to kill _you,_ you'd rather it be something  _not_ terrible.

You swallow hard, make your way to the door, then swallow again. It feels like your heart's going to break your ribs from the inside out and when you reach for the doorknob you start feeling dizzy. Breathe. Just _breathe._ Your hand closes around brass and the cold metal makes you flinch. Just _keep breathing._ Swallow a wave of nausea.

Can you really do this?

... It doesn't _matter_ if you can or can't, though, does it? If she's going to hurt you, it's going to happen even if it's not over _this_ , so – wait a second. Something's... _off,_ feels just a little odd on your arm. You've been so busy trying to figure everything out, looking at everything _but_ yourself, if you don't count thinking about yourself as looking, and now that you're reaching forward, you finally notice.

The bandage you had wrapped around that one gash you got from the from the place in the trees... it's even cleaner than it was after it was soaked? No, it's... _replaced,_ mostly fresh with just the right tightness, and Chara can't even move things around, so...

You take another slow, deep breath, turn the knob, tug on it until there's space to slip out. One slow, anxious step at a time, you follow the sound of clinking porcelain until you find the huge, nice goat lady washing dishes in the kitchen. Doing _your_ work in the kitchen...

But Chara said it's okay, they _swore_ it's okay _,_ and you _need_ this to work out somehow. You just have to keep on course, keep calm, stay determined, so you swallow again fast and hard before you can taste anything nasty in the back of your throat, stare for a few long seconds at that line where wood gives way to tile, hope with everything you have, and cross the threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> someday this ruins arc will end  
> ... some... day... (slowly fading into the distance)


End file.
